


Through Woods Mesmerised

by Silent_So_Long



Series: Vampires in Berlin (aka Ramm-pires in Berlin) [5]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Cover Art, Digital Art, M/M, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two vampires, their band and a video shoot in a spooky forest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The following story was inspired by [this post](http://babephomeme.tumblr.com/post/129638934379/sixpenceee-worlds-most-haunted-forest-the), which I saw a while ago on tumblr. It refers to the Hoia-Baciu Forest, situated near Cluj-Napoca, Romania, which is dubbed the world’s most haunted forest. The majority of this fic was based on actual stories connected with the forest itself; honestly, this shit was just too good not to use!  
> Just one small plot thread was inspired by the 1984 novel, ‘Mythago Wood’ by Robert Holdstock, a book which I read earlier this year for the first time and thoroughly enjoyed. If you haven’t read the book and love surreal, fantastical storylines, then I can’t recommend this book enough. 
> 
> Title comes from the song 'Her Ghost in the Fog', by Cradle of Filth. 
> 
> This story is already finished (hoorah!); as such, updates should be reasonably regular! Keep those eyes peeled, I tell thee.

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/paulchen2/media/through%20woods%20proper_zpskshi2wzp.jpg.html)

Paul sighed as he sank down upon the hotel bed, before he raised both hands to scrub at his face wearily; every muscle and fibre of his body seemed to ache, even in places he hadn’t previously been aware existed. He ran one hand through his hair, mussing the strands until they waved in dislodged spikes about his face. Richard struggled his way through the door, hauling on his own double-handful of heavy suitcases, cursing and swearing liberally beneath his breath as he did so. Paul knew that it was not the heaviness of the suitcases that bothered the other vampire; it was more the awkwardness of them, corners dragging and catching at unseen obstructions, in the unfamiliar landscapes of a Romanian hotel. 

They’d not long since landed in Romania itself, making their way by night to the Transylvanian town of Grigorescu, which lay some short distance away from the Hoia Bacui Forest. Rammstein were scheduled to shoot a new promo video for an upcoming single in the forest itself, and Paul and Richard in particular were thankful for the fact that the majority of it would be shot at night. The video itself centred upon a more grotesque version of Hansel and Gretel, with attendant monstrosities inhabiting the forest and poisonous gingerbread making up the witch’s house. 

“You could come and help me, y’know,” Richard said, even as he swung the suitcase into the room, door slamming shut behind him with a bang of finality.

“What? You’re more than capable,” Paul pointed out, even as Richard piled his cases next to Paul’s own at the end of the bed. “And you’ve done it. Stop complaining.”

“Smart-arse,” Richard muttered from the corner of his mouth, as he walked past the other vampire, to the window.

Paul watched, and a slight and affectionate smile curled the corners of Paul’s mouth, as he watched the other vampire twitching the corner of the curtain aside, to stare out at the darkness beyond the window. Paul settled back on the heels of his hands, fingers stretched out against the duvet beneath him. He sighed, and managed to hawk a look out the window, yet all he saw was the clear, dark blue expanse of the sky and the tiniest sliver of the moon beyond Richard’s head, and the curve of one broad shoulder. 

“Seems the perfect place for vampires, doesn’t it?” Richard threw over his shoulder, without turning around. 

“Where? The hotel or Transylvania?” Paul asked, as he transferred his weight from his hands to his back as he stretched out luxuriously upon the bed. 

“Transylvania, you idiot,” Richard snorted, as he cast a baleful glare of disbelief over the curve of his shoulder. “Isn’t this where Dracula was set?”

“Yeah. Bit cliched perhaps, but I doubt our director particularly planned to please the pair of us, personally, now, did he?” Paul snorted. “He doesn't even know we’re vampires. Probably the forest had the perfect ambience for what he had in mind.”

“Ambience, Paul, ambience,” Richard teased, with a sudden laugh. 

“Well? What’s wrong with that?” Paul asked, affecting a mock-hurt pout. “There’s nothing wrong with ambience. Ambience is as much a necessity for photography as it is for filming, I’ll have you know, Reesh. ”

“I‘m not saying there is anything wrong with it. Just sounds funny, I guess,” Richard said, with a shrug, as he finally allowed the curtains to swish back into place once more. “Anyway, talking of ambience, I think we need to create some in here. Like with a certain pair of black-out curtains.” 

“Hmm,” Paul said, as he climbed to his feet, to rummage in one of the larger suitcases.

He pulled out a pair of thick and heavy curtains, black and comfortable against the palms of his hands and he helped Richard to hang them up at the window. He stretched and yawned before he returned to his suitcase, rummaging around in its depths before he pulled out his pyjamas, the soft nap of them warm and worn and comfortable against his palms. He sighed and ran his fingers across the surface of one of the arms, hanging limply from his grasp before he grinned at Richard’s over-dramatic roll of the eyes. 

“Yeah, get over it, Reesh; I like my comforts of home, just as much as you do,” Paul said, without a trace of shame or embarrassment.

“Adds to the ambience, I suppose,” Richard said, before he poked his tongue out at Paul's suddenly laughing face.

****

Half an hour later, Paul settled beneath the bedcovers , body relaxing against the mattress; he‘d not long come back from the en-suite bathroom, and his fangs felt clean and minty-fresh. Richard was taking his turn at the mirror and the basin, cleaning his own fangs and doing whatever it was that Richard always insisted on doing in front of the mirror before he went to bed. Paul frowned and tried to get as comfortable as possible, yet the mattress itself proved to be harder than expected and not quite as comfortable as he’d first thought it to be. He struggled into a better position, and changed again even as Richard padded through from the bathroom, to join Paul beneath the covers. It seemed as though Richard was having as much trouble as Paul in getting comfortable, judging by the amount of twisting, turning and discomfited grunting that he was doing. 

“Bit hard, isn’t it?” Richard asked, as he shifted again beside Paul. 

“Not as good a mattress as the one we have at home, no,” Paul agreed, musingly. “But I suppose we can’t complain. We’ve had worse.” 

“Yeah,” Richard said, with a sigh of remembrance. “Like that time where there wasn’t even a proper bed at all, just a rubber mat on the floor. Remember that place? Where was it, now?” 

“Dunno, somewhere in Spain, wasn’t it? Or was it France?” Paul asked, as he yawned, fangs flashing in the light as he did so. 

“Spain, definitely somewhere in Spain,” Richard agreed as his eyes slipped closed on the end of his own yawn. . 

Paul settled closer to him, forehead shoring up against the curve of Richard’s shoulder. He yawned, lips smacking together in a sign of contentment as Richard's arm snaked around his waist; Paul drew closer into the curve of Richard's belly. Paul hummed quietly, a smile curving his lips as his eyes closed, Richard’s lips grazing against the top of his head in lingering, chuffing little kisses. 

“It’s almost sun-up, Reesh,” Paul murmured against Richard’s chest. 

“Hmm,” Richard said, his voice lazy and drawling in the way it always did when the sleep of the undead was threatening to overtake him. “We'll unpack this evening.” 

“Yeah,” Paul said, eyes fluttering closed again, seemingly against their will.

He yawned and slid his arm a little further around Richard’s body, hand bunching tightly in the other vampire’s shirt, drawing the comfort he needed from his lover’s body. Richard huffed out in awkward amusement at that, broad hand describing circles against Paul's back, even as Paul yawned again. Richard patted the other vampire’s back urgently, and Paul forced his eyes open to stare blearily at the suddenly alarmed looking Richard.

“Under the covers, liebling,” Richard said, urgently as he began wriggling away from Paul.

“What? I’m too tired for sex, Reesh,” Paul complained, as he too winnowed off the bed, wearily.

“Too late for that,” Richard said, and there was a hint of genuine regretful annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of having to forego sex for the evening. “I’m just thinking of the light.”

“Shit,” Paul said, as he too winnowed beneath the covers, allowing the other vampire to heft the blankets over their heads, to form a make-shift white fort around them. 

Paul’s eyes were already closed by the time that Richard settled against him again; he smiled when Richard pecked a goodnight kiss against his mouth. Paul was still smiling when sunrise overtook them, and their bodies stilled and rested in the arms of undead sleep for the day.

****


	2. Chapter 2

Richard was the first awake that evening, eyes cracking slowly open as the last rays of sunlight fled from the sky; he didn’t have to look out of the window to know that the streets would be lit by artificial lighting, that cars would wind their way past the hotel, headlights carving great gouges out of the darkness, and that somewhere unseen above their heads, stars would be pricking their way across the skies. Richard turned his attention back to Paul, to the curve of the other vampire’s cheek so close to him, at the way that his eyelashes formed soft patterns against his skin where the other vampire’s eyes were shuttered closed. Paul’s hand was still snarled in the back of Richard's t shirt, grip dead and unbreakable, lips parted but no breath would ever pass those lips again. Richard reached up and traced the pads of his fingertips against Paul’s mouth, even as life began to quicken again in Paul’s body, muscles beginning to unlock and stir and shift beneath too cold skin. Paul’s eyes cracked open, even as his mouth curved into a grin; fangs flashed and Paul bit playfully at Richard's fingers, sharp points grazing and nicking hard enough to draw specks of blood from Richard’s fingertips.

“Jesus, Paul,” Richard said, with a laugh, even as he jerked his fingers away from Paul’s fangs and grinning mouth.

Paul laughed as his hand snaked up and curled around Richard's wrist, to draw the other vampire's hand back to his mouth again wordlessly. Paul never once took his gaze from Richard's face as he pressed kisses against his lover's fingertips, drawing the ends of them deep into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked the blood away, tongue lapping hungrily at them. 

Richard groaned, deep and aroused in his chest at the intense need in Paul’s gaze, which darkened his eyes and turned them a midnight darkness instead of their usual misty-blue. Richard's head bent and he pressed kiss after kiss against Paul’s knuckles, dick stirring into life as Paul began sucking harder at Richard's fingers, pulling them deeper one after the other into his mouth and inching each one slowly out again. Paul’s eyes were dilated by the time that he’d finished, blackness of his pupils threatening to drown out the entirety of his irises until there was almost nothing left of them at all. 

“Paul,” Richard moaned, groaning at the wrecked note that dragged and rasped in his voice, even on that one word. “Paulchen.” 

Paul smiled awkwardly from around his mouthful and hooked one leg over Richard's hips; Richard could feel from the adjusted angle how aroused Paul was, and his voice took on an embarrassing whine that made him wince despite his arousal. Paul didn’t seem to mind, or to even care whether Richard was emasculated by the noise or not; instead, it seemed as though it encouraged him to bear down upon Richard's body, to press the other vampire onto his back until Paul was straddling him. erections almost perfectly aligned. Paul finally eased Richard’s fingers from his mouth, and pressed his lover’s hand flat against the pillow beside Richard's head, grip tight but not uncomfortably so around Richard's wrist. Richard reached up with his free hand and explored Paul's face again, fingertips tickling over cheek and jaw and across the beard that graced Paul’s chin, rough beneath his touch.

“I’ll bite you again,” Paul warned, with a smile.

“I don’t care,” Richard said, defiantly. “I wouldn't object if you finally decided to hurry up and fuck me, though.”

Paul smiled and hummed, arms stretching as he slid his hand from Richard's wrist to his palm, so that their fingers laced together closely. 

“Are you sure it’s what you want?” he asked, but the question was merely polite, perfunctory, a request for permission and consent. 

“Absolutely,” Richard aid, arching up into Paul’s touch languidly, yet without dislodging Paul himself from his hips.

Paul made a noise that was almost a purr deep in his throat, head dipping as he nibbled gently at Richard’s neck; Richard groaned and tilted his head away far enough so that the other vampire could gain better access to his throat, effectively laying himself bare for Paul’s fangs and his mouth and his tongue. Richard trusted Paul, would bare his throat for him when he wouldn’t for anyone else and he thought that Paul knew it; the kisses that Paul bestowed there seemed to strengthen the knowledge, tender and grateful and teasing, mere seconds before fangs plunged in and broke skin and Richard cried out, almost coming from the sheer pleasure-rush of it. He found he was begging Paul to take him, to make love to him, to just fuck him until he was bruised and aching, not caring whether he sounded stupid or not, just wanting nothing but Paul. 

Paul’s arms slid around him, half lifted him from the bed into a better position, before his lover's hands skillfully stripped Richard's pyjamas methodically from his body, leaving Richard naked and achingly aroused in their passing. Paul eased away and Richard's hands grappled for him, soundless pleas to remain with him, yet Paul merely caught one of his flailing hands and pressed a kiss against Richard's palm. 

“I’m only getting the lube, you stupid arse,” he said, affectionately, even as he continued slipping away from Richard.

Richard allowed his hand to fall back against the mattress, yet Paul seemed to be gone an interminable time before he returned, lube and condoms in hand. Paul settled between Richard’s legs again and Richard raised them, knees almost at his shoulders, exposing himself and laying himself bare for Paul. Paul smiled at him, a gentle look in his eyes as he pressed one hand against Richard's knee, in silent thanks. 

Richard watched and waited as Paul squirted lube onto his fingers, before those same fingers dipped down and circled Richard's entrance, making teasing shapes and passes against him, until Richard begged mercy and Paul finally eased in with a chuckle and a sigh. Richard jerked up from the contact with a loud cry of his own, that was more arousal and relief than pain and Paul continued to prepare him, every movement methodical yet soothing, more designed for Richard’s continued comfort than for anything else. Richard was almost crying by the time that Paul eased away, arousal an almost unbearable pain in his abdomen and his chest, limbs shaking with the force of it all and he raised one hand in silent thanks to lay between Paul's shoulder-blades when the other vampire finally settled on top of him, body forming a familiar weight against him.

Richard smiled when he felt the first press of Paul’s cock against him, at the crease in Richard's arse, as Paul began to rub against him, agonised groans leaking past skinned back lips, and exposed fangs. Paul panted, before he reached between them, and guided himself into Richard with a drawn-out, deepened sigh of relief. Richard hiked his heels up and rested them against Paul’s back, arms sliding against Paul’s sides until fingers latched together in the small of his lover’s back, effectively holding him there, whilst Paul continued to thrust against him. Deep groans were wrenched unbidden from Paul’s throat, as he thrust harder, deeper, hips rolling deeply against hips and Richard's cries were in answer to Paul’s, growing louder and combined until Richard finally threw his head back and released with a cry of Paul’s name wrenched loudly from his abdomen. Paul’s climax hit a few moments later, body shuddering slightly beneath the force of it, face lax with extreme pleasure, before he eased away to lay beside Richard, body loose-limbed and languidly sated. 

“Fuck me,” Richard breathed.

“I’ve just done that, Reesh,” Paul admonished, but there was a small warm smile in his voice and on his face when Richard turned to him. 

“That was fantastic,” Richard said, as though Paul hadn’t spoken and Paul's eyes closed, lips curling in remembered, barely sated pleasure. 

They lay in silence then, finally rising when the hour grew later, and they decided to shower and to dress in clean clothing, to head for the streets, unfamiliar from their usual, more beloved streets of Berlin. Transylvania, at that time of year, proved colder than their home town, and ice formed crystals of perspiration against the ground, glittering like diamonds against the asphalt and concrete. Richard and Paul purposefully stayed as near to the hotel as they could, uncertain as yet as to the layout of the city, and just who else might be there that were creatures of the night like them, if anyone. As Paul pointed out, they could not be the only vampires in existence; they already knew from their time in Austria, that there were others like them, turned by the brother of their last producer, Bob Adams.

“I wonder who else there is?” Paul asked, mind filled with queries as to who the other vampires could be.

“I don’t know; I’m sure we’ll find out one day, one night, whatever. They can’t hide forever,” Richard replied, with a shrug, yet Paul thought that the other vampire looked uncomfortable. 

He reached out to lay one hand against Richard’s forearm, stopping the other vampire in his tracks and swinging him around to face him.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked curiously as he stared at Richard at close range.

“Nothin’,” Richard said, as he turned away as far as he could, yet Paul’s strong hand held him in place, trapping him by Paul’s side. 

“It’s not nothing, Reesh,” Paul said, sharply. “I can always tell when you’re hiding something or when something‘s bothering you. I‘m here for you, you know that. I always have been before. Now what‘s bothering you?” 

“I don't care if we never find another vampire again, Paul,” Richard said, sharply. “I’m not gonna share you with anyone.”

“Who the hell said that you had to? I’m not going anywhere,” Paul said in sudden surprise, as he blinked at Richard in surprise. 

“I’m not saying you are; oh, I don't actually know what I’m saying, y’know?” Richard sighed, as he turned his face to the sky. “Let’s just drop it, shall we?” 

“You’re jealous,” Paul said, with a sudden snort of laughter, even as his hand fell away from Richard's arm to hang by his side once more.

“So what if I am? Don’t rub it in,” Richard growled, but there was an amused light in his eyes at that. “Wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yeah, but I‘ll never leave you,” Paul said, softly, and that was all he really needed to say.

Richard smiled at that, and leant in, lips brushing gently at Paul’s for a moment; Paul settled closer, and captured Richard’s mouth properly in a kiss, fangs gently nibbling at the other vampire's lower lip. He felt Richard sigh against him, a sudden passage of air that came and went and stilled against him; he rested one hand against where Richard’s heart should have beat and felt nothing, yet he knew that that meant nothing. Richard still felt, could experience love and jealousy and anger and hatred as much as he ever could as a human, but would hold onto each emotion for far longer.

“Let’s go and grab ourselves a Transylvanian takeaway,” he murmured, finally. 

Richard grinned at that, yet merely nodded wordlessly. He led the way through unfamiliar streets, hungry eyes scanning each face that passed, until both vampires pin-pointed one apiece that struck their fancy. Richard and Paul became like shadows in the deeper shadows of the night, blending in wherever darkness reigned, feline-silent feet stalking in the wake of their chosen victims. Their hunt was long and painstaking, as they waited for their intended meals to choose a lonesome street, away from prying eyes and their patience finally paid off down a dark alleyway, where fangs flashed and struck and tongues lapped at welling blood that flowed from mesmerised throats.

****


	3. Chapter 3

Richard shuffled his feet through the leaves that lay scattered against the ground, gaze flickering unsteadily over the edge of the forest that spanned out before them. Paul stood quiet and deathly still beside him, a contented expression softening the features of his face; his lips were curved into a gentle smile and Richard smiled despite himself and his boredom when he glanced at his lover. Paul always looked peaceful when he was particularly contented, which was a direct contrast to Richard's seemingly near-constant inner darkness. 

That night marked the second since Richard and Paul had arrived in Transylvania, and the first of the video shoot proper. The rest of Rammstein had already been in Transylvania a couple of days longer than Richard and Paul had, and they were infinitely more bored than the vampires were; they’d had little to do in the interim between their arrival and that of their guitarists, yet to look at them, one would have never known. Till was laughing in the distance with Flake, both men standing close together as they discussed something only they were seemingly privy to; the sound of the crew setting up around the area drowned out everything except for the random odd noise coming from various points over the make-shift scene.

The air was frigid with cold, and moisture billowed and pooled in the air in great hanging clouds of near-fog in some places. Frost threatened by morning, judging by the bitterness of the air, and the edge that shimmered about the moon in the sky. Olli shivered his way across to the stationary vampires, hands shoved deeply into his pockets, scarf pulled up high around the lower half of his face. Still, despite the woolen covering, Richard and Paul could see that the bassist was smiling, eyes crinkled gently at the corners as he nodded quietly at them.

“How was your trip here?” Olli asked, and his tone was definitely warmer, his eyes friendlier than the last time they‘d met. 

It seemed as though he, at least, had almost fully come to terms with their vampirism, since they’d effectively freed him from ghoulish possession in the lead-up to Christmas the year before. Flake and Schneider were close behind him, attitudes warmer and more polite, yet only Till remained a little more reserved than the others, yet even he was easier around them than he once had been. 

“Long, and boring,” Paul said, with a shrug and his usual wide and friendly grin. “It was alright, though, I suppose.”

“Did you happen to fly by plane?” Olli asked, carefully. 

“Why? How else could we fly?” Richard asked, in sudden alarm. 

“I dunno. I thought you guys could turn into bats or something,” Olli asked, and a sudden embarrassed laugh billowed from unseen lips. “Isn’t that what vampires do?” 

“No, Olli; sorry to disappoint you but we can’t change into bats, all of a sudden,” Paul sighed, overriding Richard’s confusion. 

“Oh,” Olli said, shoulders slumping beneath the weight of his disappointment.

“You actually really do sound disappointed,” Richard pointed out, in laughing surprise. 

“Well, how cool would that have been if you could turn into bats?” Olli asked, staring at Richard as though he still expected him to turn into a bat and fly squeaking about his head. “I mean, have you actually tried?” 

“Noooo,” Richard said, slowly, as he glanced in Paul’s direction.

He couldn’t stop the laugh from billowing out of his mouth at the tinge of embarrassment that suddenly warmed the paleness of Paul’s cheeks.

“Oh, Paul, you didn’t; don‘t tell me actually tried turning into a bat?” Richard asked, in disbelief. “When the hell did that happen?”

“Last week, when you were having your shower one night,” Paul replied, and his embarrassment transferred from his expression to his voice, warming the tone of it and turning it slightly deeper than usual. “I was reading a vampire novel and got the idea from there. It didn’t work. I tried really hard and all I did was fart. Maybe it takes time and practice, or something.” 

Olli laughed at that, even as Schneider wandered over, a grin brightening his face as he crowded in between Olli and Paul, obviously trying to gain some warmth from them. He cast a glance at Paul in sudden surprise, as though he hadn’t expected Paul to be as cold as he was; only Olli emitted body warmth. He didn’t move away, and Paul was glad for that; Schneider’s grin merely faltered a little, as he pulled his coat a little closer about his body and remained stoically sandwiched between warm Olli and dead-cold Paul. 

“Cold enough for you fellas?” Schneider asked, brightly.

“Nah. I actually feel as though I’m in need of an ice cream, actually,” Olli replied, musingly, as though genuinely contemplating the prospect of one. 

Schneider cast a glance at the taller man, sudden alarm stamped across his face, and a slow, sly grin spread silently across Olli's face at that, only visible by the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Schneider merely snorted and pretended indifference as he turned away, yet not quick enough to hide the sudden amused grin from spreading across his own face.

“So how are you looking forward to this shoot, then, guys? Forest certainly looks lovely,” Schneider said, sarcastically as he turned his shivering gaze upon the edge of the trees behind them.

Richard thought that the forest looked anything but welcoming; the trees were twisted into odd shapes, leaning away from, and into, each other at unexpected angles; some trunks were twisted and blasted into spiraling shapes, whilst still others laid flat against the ground for some feet before suddenly arcing up to the sky at near-perfect right angles. A scant few had trunks that spiralled and twisted like a double helix. The bark of most of the trees looked dark, and ominously black as though they‘d suffered burns or lightning strikes in the past, while the branches were bare and devoid of anything expect for the hardiest of leaves. 

Richard knew that it still was mid-winter, which could explain the current lack of foliage, yet he suspected that even in spring, little would grow further down upon the lower branches, and that even the growth they sported would be sparse and patchy at best. The whole place seemed to give off the reek and redolence of sickness, and bad health; the feel of it thrummed in the air, battering against his skin like an uneven heartbeat, as though the forest, in its own way, was blighted and dying. He shivered, and pulled his coat closer about his body, yet it was more from feeling discomfited than through genuinely feeling cold. Neither he nor Paul were affected by temperature any more.

“So you two do feel the cold,” Olli observed, having observed Richard's discomfited fit.

“No, actually we don’t,” Paul said, before Richard could. “But we still can feel uncomfortable. That forest hardly looks the most forgiving or welcoming of places.”

“Yeah, even we can feel that, and we‘re only human,” Schneider agreed, as he turned a disgusted frown away from the forest’s edge. “I hope there are no spiders in there.” 

Richard made a sound of distressed disgust at that, but didn’t comment further; he didn't get the chance to. The dog-handlers hired for the duration of the video shoot wandered past then, pulling a whole passel of huskies in their wake. Whilst they looked more like wolves than pets, they at least were placid, until they passed close to the two vampires; they started to bark, deep rolling ominous bursts of noise that were interspersed with rumbling, angry growls, saliva flying in specks of foam from open jaws and exposed teeth. The look in their eyes was crazed, fearful, primal, angry, and they only quietened down again when the handlers managed to wrest them out of the way of the vampires, closer to Till and Flake. Whilst Flake stepped away from the reach of the animals with an alarmed look upon his face, Till typically didn’t move, more interested and curious than wary or conscious of self-preservation. Richard wasn’t surprised by that in the slightest; he often wondered if Till had any fear at all or held any regard for his own safety. Till and Flake wandered over, once the huskies had been pulled away, finally joining the rest of the band.

“What was all that about? Which one of you kicked the dogs?” Till asked, nonchalantly, hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets, breath pluming from his mouth as he spoke. 

“None of us kicked any dogs,” Schneider immediately objected with alarm. “As if. They just started going mad as soon as they got near Paul and Richard.” 

“I don’t think they like dead guys,” Flake said, speaking for the first time since joining the little group. “They can sense you’re not like the rest of us.”

“Maybe not, and we’re undead guys, not wholly dead, actually,” Richard pointed out.

Flake shrugged then, sudden grin appearing upon his face, yet he didn’t look overly concerned about his own mislabeling of the guitarists. 

“I think Flake has a point,” Paul said, with a slow and thoughtful nod. “They were calm until they reached us. It almost was as though they felt threatened, or frightened, or both when they saw us.” 

“Huh. Super,” Richard said, darkly. “I guess it’s good that we don’t usually have many dealings with dogs, then, Paul.” 

“Yeah, until now,” Paul said, with a wry twist to his mouth that was more annoyed than amused. 

“Just keep out the way of the dogs, then; simple as that,” Till said, with a snort, that said as much as words ever did that he thought the solution to the problem painfully obvious. 

“Easier said than done, I should think,” Richard pointed out. “People are gonna wonder why we keep shuffling out of the way every time that dogs start appearing.”

“Tell ‘em you’ve got a phobia or allergies or something,” Olli suggested. “I mean, it’s what I would do.” 

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Richard said, with a sudden grin at the now smiling bassist beside him. “Thanks, Olli. You’re a champ.” 

Olli’s soft smile grew into a proper grin at that, but didn’t get a chance to respond; the director, Ben Irvine, then called for action. The band waited on the sidelines; Richard and Paul stood at a further distance from the others, to avoid the still snarling, snapping attentions of the huskies, as their handlers, dressed in old fashioned clothing, dangled scraps of cloth in front of their noses. Cameras whirred and captured every nuance of the reactions of the dogs, powerful bodies twisting and tensing against the leads that were clamped firmly to the collars around their necks, forepaws all but dancing clear from the ground, so that the dogs became temporarily two legged. Some of the huskies still lunged occasionally at Richard and Paul when the handlers took them too close, froth flecking from their lips as their eyes locked angrily upon the uncomfortable vampires. 

The camera crew then filmed the huskies flying free through the trees, furry paws taking the huskies on zig-zag trails, baying joyful barks floating in the wake of the running, lolloping canines. Paul, watching on the sidelines, with protracted, keen interest, had to admit that the huskies, in the dim lighting and shadows thrown by the skeleton-trees, looked like the wolves they were supposed to be, running through the forest after unknown, unseen prey. Eventually, Ben decided that he had enough footage, and called for the scene to end; the crew began picking their way towards the edge of the forest, cameras and equipment in tow, to set up another shot within the realms of the twisted trees.

****


	4. Chapter 4

Richard and Paul walked together, trees seeming to crowd in close around their bodies; all around them, the night forest seemed to breathe, to have a life of its very own. Night animals clattered and scurried unseen in the undergrowth, movements marked by odd flurries and shaking of the undergrowth away from assorted crew and cast members, as they made their way through the trees. The night grew impossibly colder in the forest, as though the dead, mostly bare branches were sucking the life and vitality out of the air. 

Flake and Till were walking close by, yet neither man was talking; Paul could see the uneasy glances that Fake was casting at their surroundings, lips thinned down into uncomfortable lines, fingers twisting his scarf into awkward shapes, as though through sheer dint of strangling the life out of something inanimate, he could transfer and burn off some of his own insecurities and anxieties. Till ploughed on as steadily as he ever did; the only concession he made to their surroundings was a slight hunching of his shoulders, which formed uncomfortable arches beneath his thick jacket. 

Richard turned as Olli drifted closer, from where he’d been following the others, eyes scanning the surrounding trees as he did so. The bassist’s hands scrubbed patterns against his arms, yet Richard could tell that it was more from discomfort than through any lingering pretenses at trying to rub away the lingering cold. He remained silent, as Schneider also joined them.

“Scared yet?” Richard asked, but his question was tempered by a cheeky smile and a slight wink. 

“Aren’t you?” Schneider asked, pointedly. 

“I’m scared,” Paul said, immediately, joining in the conversation. “It’s hardly the most pleasant place we’ve ever filmed in. I wouldn’t be surprised if there's some kind of murderer or something living in these trees, lurking just to prey on unsuspecting wanderers and film crews.” 

“Jesus, don’t say that,” Flake said, voice drifting over quite clearly from where he still walked with Till. “It’s bad enough in here, without being worried about murderers, as well.” 

Paul didn’t offer apology nor smile; instead, he cast his gaze anxiously about the trees, even as Till spoke.

“I don’t know why you’re worried, Paul,” he said. “Both you and Richard probably stand a better chance than any of us at fending off attack. You’re stronger than any of us, now.” 

“Even vampires get spooked, you know, Till,” Richard pointed out. “We’re not all bad-arses.”

“Why, how many other vampires do you know?” Flake asked, with a sudden sarcastic snort. “You haven’t been a vampire for six months yet and suddenly you’re a bloody expert.”

“Oh, does it fucking matter, Flake?” Richard asked, voice rising slightly in vague irritation. “Jesus Christ, just concentrate where you’re going and stop worrying about how many other vampires there are.” 

“Your bloody boyfriend was the one going on about murderers.” Flake pointed out.

“I think we need to all fucking calm down and shut up for a minute,” Schneider said, voice raised enough to drown out further comment. “You’re all acting like children, honestly. And don’t start pointing fingers, and saying that so-and-so started it. Enough. We‘re all spooked, and we all hate this place. Get over it and get on with it, goddamn you all.” 

There was a sudden silence at that, heavy and lengthy, before that silence was broken by laughter from first Richard, then Paul, followed swiftly by the others. 

“I really do hate this place, you know,” Flake said, unnecessarily, as they finally came to a halt at the edge of a clearing. “Just think, we’ve gotta film here for another couple of weeks. Can't wait to go home.”

“You can never wait to go home,” Till pointed out, with a smile. 

“True,” Flake grunted, before he fell silent again.

They remained in silence then, and started to drift away into natural formations; Till remained with Flake, whilst Richard and Paul huddled together beneath the shade of a bare-branched tree. Schneider remained on his own for a while, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his heavy coat as he watched the crew setting up the lights and the cameras in the clearing. The clearing itself was unnaturally bare, earth showing brown and patchily black where grass and shrubbery should have grown. Even the trees seemed to twist and rear away from the edges of it, as though they were repulsed by it. Schneider shuddered and shook himself free from his self-induced thousand-mile stare hypnosis, before he looked over his shoulder, with the thought of asking Olli something. 

Olli, however, was nowhere to be seen, either directly behind him as Schneider had expected, nor was he standing with any of other band members. The two vampires were too busy snuggling together, mouths engaged in exchanging small pecking kisses and smiles to take notice of anyone else, whilst Till and Flake were engaged in heavy conversation, frowns pulling serious brows low over equally serious eyes. Schneider turned, frowning himself as he scanned the milling bodies that crowded round the edges of the clearing as well as the crew-occupied space within the confines of the clearing itself. He could not see the familiar tall and lanky form of his friend; Olli was usually pretty hard to miss, towering over the majority of people with ease. 

“What’s up?” Till asked, distracted momentarily from his conversation with Flake to glance at the increasingly alarmed form of Schneider.

“When was the last time either of you saw Olli?” Schneider asked, his alarm spiking through his voice and turning it higher and choppier than normal. 

“Olli? He was with us when we walked into the forest,” Flake said, as he too cast his gaze around the clearing. 

He apparently had no more luck in locating the bassist than Schneider had, for he swore and shouted for Olli loudly. His shouts attracted the attentions of the vampires, who wandered over, with matching curious expressions upon their faces, fingers linked and twined together between them. 

“We should have a look for him, don’t you think?” Paul asked, looking to Richard as though for permission or corroboration. “Unknown territory and whatnot.”

Richard gave him a sharp nod, before he partially turned away, blue-green gaze scanning back the way that they’d come, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of the spaces between the trees. He raised his free hand, scrubbed helpless fingers against his eyes and squinted again; for one awful moment, it seemed as though the trees formed kaleidoscopic and dizzying patterns, one against the other, perspectives deranged and as off-kilter as Escher paintings he remembered seeing in one of Paul's books. 

“What’s up? Headache?” Paul asked, sympathetically.

“Maybe. Trouble focussing; this bloody forest is crazy,” Richard said, before he squeezed Paul’s fingers. “Anyway, no matter. Olli. Let’s go find him. Paul and I will go this way; you guys go ... somewhere else.” 

“Real helpful, Reesh,” Schneider said, as he gave Richard a sharp grin and a slight affectionate shoulder bump as he walked past him. 

Richard grinned at the drummer in return, before they went their separate ways to find their errant bassist.

****


	5. Chapter 5

Olli wandered alone through the twisted, blasted landscape of the forest, occasionally shouting for one or the other of his band-mates; someone had, as yet, to answer him. Silence reigned absolute between the trees, deathly still and not even the night animals that Olli had heard earlier were uprooted form their homes at his presence; he would have welcomed the sounds of their disturbingly clattering flight through the forest, if it meant that it broke the eerie silent stillness of his surroundings for a while. He stopped and tried to gain his bearings, turning completely in a circle, yet nothing looked familiar, nor could he hear even the slightest sound from the cast, or crew. Usually, film sets were noisy affairs, filled with life and with shouts, barked orders and swearing fits as lights crashed down upon tender toes and sensitive fingers, or cables came loose to spend their electricity in great arcing sparks against the ground if they were yanked free. 

He should have heard the sound of the dogs, baying and barking and straining at their leads, perhaps revelling in angry volleys if they came too close to Paul and to Richard, led there by unsuspecting handlers who knew no better than to keep their beasts away. He stopped and leant one gloved hand against a tree, tried to gather his bearings again when a wave of dizziness swept over him, almost dumping him to the ground upon his butt with the force of it. He leant over, hands propped against locked knees, trying to combat an almost overwhelming sense of nausea, which flooded his mouth with saliva, and sent his stomach reeling and heaving and rebelling against the heavy meal that he’d eaten earlier in the evening. For one brief moment, he was scared that he really was going to vomit, before the bilious fit passed and he was able to stand again. He turned, confusion still reigning harshly within him, and he had the sudden certain feeling that he wasn’t alone, that eyes were riveted upon him and watching every movement that he made. 

“Hey,” he said, harshly and as gruffly as he could.

He knew that in a fight, he had his muscles and his sheer height going for him; he was ready and willing to fight, if need be.

“I know you’re there,” Olli said, and for one brief mad moment, he thought he saw movement, flittering amongst the trees, there and gone in an instant, yet oddly there was no noise.

He blinked, tried to dispel sudden images of Predator, and aliens with invisibility cloaking devices, and a grease-painted Arnold Schwarzenegger stalking through the trees. He tried to be realistic, forcing himself to think instead of Paul and of Richard; they were the only ones he knew who could move without sound, feet cat-silent, and movements feline-fluid since their change. He whirled when he thought he saw movement again, from the corner of his eye, yet when he peered closely amongst the trees, the movement did not reoccur. For one brief instant, Olli thought he saw lights shifting and whirling far off into the distance, yet they disappeared almost as fast as they had appeared.

“Reesh?” he tried. “Paulchen? Are you there? Is that you?” 

He listened but there was no reply and there was no other sound at all. The air itself was as dead as it had been upon first entry into the forest, filled with nothing but soulless, despairing blackness. He felt some of that despair rolling over him, as dark and as horrific as the previous bilious fit had been. He thought he saw something again between the trees, something like fox-fire flickering from trunk to trunk, fast, rapid movements faster than the eye could track, yet it faded away before he could properly focus on it. 

A sudden sense of evil and of doom descended upon him, dank and thick and utterly depressing; he knew then that whatever it was out there with him, was not either Richard or Paul. They might have changed, yet they never felt truly evil to Olli; merely different, coldness and stillness sticking to their skin where life and vitality and joy, had once held sway.

“Oh, fuck,” Olli said, as he sank to his knees amongst dead leaves, which crunched dryly beneath him, yet even that sound was oddly dead in the air, with no echo, no real natural life nor resonance to it at all. 

Olli had never felt quite so alone as he did in that one instant, and that was when the horror truly started for him.”

****

Richard swung round when he heard the first terrified howls ratcheting through the trees, great, gusting exhalations filled with genuine unbounded terror; Paul stiffened beside him, misty-blue eyes stretched wide and his mouth pulled downwards in a taut and uncomfortable line. 

“What the fuck is that?” Richard asked, as the sounds grew louder, more desperately pleading and that’s when they heard their names screamed in amongst the garbled mass of words.

“Jesus, I think that’s Olli,” Paul shouted in sudden fearful alarm, body singing beneath the weight of his fearful anxiety.

He capered away, movements lithe and fast beneath the trees, and even with his supernaturally feline grace and speed, Richard had a hard job keeping up with the smaller, lighter vampire. He tried to stay in the lee of Paul’s wake all the same, mindful of keeping his lover in sight at all times. Whatever had gotten to Olli might well get to Paul and that was something that Richard could not have upon his conscience. The potential loss of Olli was bad enough, yet to lose Paul would destroy Richard completely.

They seemed to run in circles, senses outwitted by unfamiliar trees, and disconcerting terrain; after five minutes of running, it seemed as though they’d achieved nothing, and had covered no great distance at all. Paul was swearing frantically and at great, creative length by the time that they barged headlong into Schneider, who drew back, blue eyes stretched wide in sudden terror at having two vampires literally falling on top of him. 

“Jesus, guys, have you heard Olli?” he asked. “Where the fuck is he? I swear I’m running in circles in this place.”

“Same here,” Richard said, as Paul swore again.

Till and Flake came floundering out of the trees next and Till was swearing more liberally than even Paul had done, branches trailing after him and bits of leaves stuck over his clothing. Richard almost laughed at the sight; Till had obviously taken a spill somewhere in the trees, yet he knew laughter was inappropriate given what was happening to Olli, and he knew that laughter would only add insult to injury where Till was concerned. 

Olli had fallen eerily silent then, leaving no clue as to where he even was; still the fivesome made their way as best they could through the trees, to where they thought he might be. Surprisingly, the way was clearer than it had been before, and with a little fumbling amongst misshapen trees and disconcerting shadows, they stumbled literally over the prone form of Olli laying on the ground, eyes open and staring, but otherwise not moving.

“Oh, fuck, is he dead?” Schneider asked, in sudden alarm. “Flake, have a look at him; you’re the doctor.”

Flake grumbled his way over to Olli, and knelt beside him, slender hands coming to rest upon Olli’s chest. They all could see faint movement there, as of breaths being taken rhythmically. There was a collective sigh at that, before suddenly Olli sat up with a yell, almost head-butting Flake in the process. Flake jerked backwards with a startled cry, eyes flying wide with sudden alarm as he did so; his jerking motion almost dumped him onto his butt, saved only from embarrassment by Paul’s quick hands landing heavily against his shoulders and balancing him again. Flake seemed almost not to notice, yet Paul took no offence, merely stepped away when he was certain that Flake was stable where he balanced on the balls of his feet; Paul then knelt in front of Olli, one knee planted on the ground, whilst one arm trailed over the other updrawn knee. 

“Olli, what happened?” he asked, and stared into the still slightly confused face of Olli, as the bassist raised one hand to scrub at his eyes and across his forehead wearily. “Where the hell were you, more to the point. We were looking for you.”

“I dunno. I only stopped to re-tie my shoe-laces and when I stood up, you lot had buggered off. I tried to catch up with you and it was like I was walking in circles. I couldn’t find you, and I kept shouting for you and no one answered,” Olli said, as he looked round at the others, and tried to smile at the too serious faces of his band-mates as they stared down at him. 

None of them returned the smile, however; instead, they continued to regard him with interested, even worried, gazes. Schneider seemed the most jumpy of them all, strong hands scrubbing constantly at his arms, with as much anxiety as with the cold, eyes skittering over everything that surrounded them, as though unable to focus on any one thing for long. It seemed to transmit itself a little to the others; even Richard and Paul began to look a little uncomfortable, and Olli knew that they had the least to worry about. 

“I dunno what the hell happened next, really; I started feeling really ill. I stopped and then I thought someone was behind me. I thought I saw movement, and lights in the trees, far off in the distance, but no one seemed to be there. I turned, and I either fell over and hit my head, or someone hit me, I think. I dunno what the hell happened after that, but I know I started to hallucinate about the time I was possessed at Christmas,” Olli said, as he cast his gaze upon Richard. 

“Jesus,” Till said, as he stared down at the still prostrate Olli. “Hallucinating what, exactly? About almost knifing Richard?”

“Till,” Flake said, as he cast a sharp glance up at the vocalist. 

“What? It was a purely innocent question,” Till asked, with an expansive shrug. “No malice in it.”

“I don’t think Olli needs to relive what happened to him. Don't you think he’s been through enough? Did you not hear how scared he was earlier?” Flake asked, before his words were stilled by a gentle hand laid on his shoulder.

“It’s alright Flake,” Olli said, quietly. “He’s only asking. And I was hallucinating about the time that I spent in the Tiergarten, held by those revenants. I must have hit my head pretty badly to remember that again.” 

There seemed little else that any of them could say to that; silence reigned supreme between them. The trees creaked and scraped overhead, branches shifting together in unseen fits of wind, emitting harsh skittering sounds that almost sounded like dead bones marching through the undergrowth.

“I hate it here,” Schneider said, with a shudder, breaking the tree-filled silence at last. “I wouldn't be surprised if there really was a murderer here, and that’s who hit you on the head, Olli.”

‘Will you shut up about bloody murderers? There are no murderers,” Richard said, sharply, anger pulling his brows low over his eyes at that. 

“Well, there could be,” Schneider yelled back. “Hiding out in the forest just waiting for some stupid fuck to wander off alone and then - Bam! They’re toast! Happens out all the time in isolated places. Why not here? I believe in it.”

“This place is spooky enough without imagining something like that on top of it,” Flake said, with a distressed look upon his face. 

“Enough,” Paul said, wearily. “This place is really getting to you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, I can’t believe you’re not affected, Paul,” Schneider said, as he turned on Paul.

“I am. I hate it here as much as you guys apparently do, but I’m not about to go for anyone’s throat,” Paul said, before he caught himself, shrugged and gave an embarrassed little smile. “Well, not in the angry sense anyway. Bit of vampire humour for you there.” 

“Yeah, ha-di-fucking-ha, Landers,” Schneider said, as he turned away.

“Jesus, Paul’s right. We shouldn’t be lunging at each other in anger. It only leads to more distress and drama than we really need right now,” Richard said. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” Schneider murmured, before Till cut off further argument with a loud, and wordless cry of anger.

Once Till was certain that no one was going to argue further, he spoke.

“Olli, are you okay to shoot tonight or not?” he asked, pointedly changing the subject.

“I’m better, now, I think,” Olli said, with a brief and grateful smile. “I’ll tell you for certain when I actually stand up.”

Flake helped him to his feet, and whilst the bassist swayed a little, his posture soon straightened and he was able to stand on his own two feet again, body as tall and as straight as it ever was.

“I’m okay,” he sighed, with a brave smile. “I’ll live to fight another day, as they say, at any rate.” 

Till nodded at him, before he cast a glance round at the others, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into flat lines, jaw clenching and unclenching angrily.

“We’re going back to the set now,” he said. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Flake said, immediately, yet he was the only one who truly spoke.

The rest of the band merely nodded, silently, gazes flickering at Till and then away again.

“Agreed,” Till confirmed. “And now for the important question. Anyone know where the fucking set is?” 

Laughter suddenly erupted from the rest of the band and even Till graced them with a grin. 

“If we just start walking, I’m sure we’ll hear something. Hey, perhaps the vampires should go ahead; the dogs will smell them and create a riot, then we’ll know for certain where it is,” Flake said, as he stared hopefully at Richard and Paul. “Unless you guys can follow the scent of blood or something? Can you smell the crew?” 

“We can try,” Richard said, dryly. 

“Well, get yourselves upfront and going then,” Till said, as he chivvied Richard and Paul in front. 

Even with Richard and Paul’s keen noses, it took the group another half an hour to find their way back to the set and that was only purely by accident; it seemed as though the forest leached the air of scent as well as of life. Paul caught the scent of blood first, sharp and iron-rich upon the breezes when the wind-direction changed. He hissed, fangs suddenly gleaming in the meagre light, hunger gnawing at his belly, and Richard followed suit, alerted to the presence of food by his lover.

“We’ve found it,” Schneider said, dryly. 

“Yeah, I can see the lights from here,” Olli said, pointing up to the trees ahead, where the lights filtered through the trees in eerie lances stabbing through the darkness.

Shadows moved in front of the lances of light, cutting them off in odd natural strobes. Paul darted off before any of them could stop him, legs moving supernaturally fast as he followed his nose and his hunger to where a solitary crew member relieved himself against a tree. He didn’t stand a chance before Paul ambushed him, hypnotized him and sank fangs deeply into the man’s neck. Paul was dimly aware of the passage of his lover passing him, before Richard was lost to the trees and the shadows in the search for his own meal.

****


	6. Chapter 6

“What in the name of all that is holy is this shit?” Paul yelled the following evening, his voice heard clearly through the closed doorway of their en-suite bathroom. 

Richard looked up from the lyrics that he was idly scribbling upon a notepad, as the door banged open to reveal the familiarly naked body of his lover, striding out of the bathroom in a fit of rage and panic. Richard began to smile, eyes raking over his lover’s body appreciatively, before he saw the long thin line of a red-raw rash blossoming against the soft flesh of his lover’s abdomen. It looked slightly swollen and definitely aggravated, red angry welts in direct contrast to the paler tones of Paul’s skin.

“Jesus,” Richard said, as he threw his pad aside to stand and to walk closer to Paul.

He bent down and garnered a closer look at the rash, fingers reaching out to finger at the flesh gently. He noticed that there were a few blisters amongst the redness, but they were unbroken.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, when he felt Paul flinch beneath his touch, a sharp hiss leaking past suddenly skinned back lips when Richard glanced up into Paul’s face.

“No, it fucking tickles. Of course it fucking hurts,” Paul said, yet he did not step away from Richard’s touch.

Instead, he seemed to force himself to bear it, before Richard slipped one arm around his lover’s waist and pulled Paul into a gentle hug. Richard was glad when Paul accepted the hug, one hand shoring up against his back, but he was careful not to touch Paul’s rash or to brush against it inadvertently with the tails of his untucked shirt.

“Bloody itches like fuck, as well,” Paul said, even though Richard had not asked. “I made it hurt because I scratched it.”

“Well, don’t scratch it then,” Richard said, with a sudden affectionate laugh. “It’s probably poison ivy or something. Just leave it. It’ll get infected it if you scratch it and break any of the blisters.” 

“Bloody poison ivy,” Paul said. “I’m not even a fan of DC.” 

“What?” Richard asked, in sudden alarm.

“Poison Ivy? DC Comics? Batman, perhaps? Doesn’t ring a bell, at all?” Paul asked, as slow grin began to work its way across his face. 

“Jesus, you're such a nerd, Paul,” Richard said, but he managed to hide a grin at the last minute.

“An adorable, yet extremely attractive, nerd,” Paul said, defiantly, as he struck a pose, completely forgetting that he still was completely naked. 

“You look ridiculous. Now go get dressed. I can’t take you seriously when you’re naked,” Richard said, even as he rested one hand pointedly against Paul’s bare behind. 

“Nor can you keep your hands off me,” Paul pointed out, smugly. “Now what about my rash?”

“I told you, leave it. It’ll go away on its own, in a couple of weeks, or sooner, knowing how fast we heal these days. If it doesn’t, then perhaps you should go see the doctor; I know there‘s one on-set,” Richard said. “He’ll probably give you antibiotics or something. Oral ones.” 

“Oral sounds nice, right about now,” Paul said, lewdly. “And you walked into that one, Reesh.”

“Willingly,” Richard insisted. “Now go and take your shower and we’ll talk about oral things later.” 

Paul stuck his tongue out at Richard, before he scooted away, Richard’s gaze resting firmly upon Paul’s retreating bottom as he went.

*****

“Where’s Schneider?” Paul asked, as he joined the rest of the band gathered in the hotel’s reception area the following evening.

They were waiting for the transport to take them to the forest again, yet there was no sign of the drummer.

“Not coming tonight. He’s got a migraine,” Olli replied. “He’s decided to sleep it off with a couple of aspirin and quiet surroundings.” 

“Hmm,” Till grunted. “I guess he’s lucky he has no scenes tonight, then.” 

Till fell silent, hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he stared at the far wall; the vocalist looked caught up in his own thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Olli replied, before he, too, fell silent. 

“I’m gonna pop in on him, just to make sure he doesn’t want anything,” Richard said, with a shrug. “Wait for me, Paulchen?”

“Okay,” Paul said, even as the others began to walk away, heading for the hotel‘s main doors. “Hold the mini-bus, guys.” 

“Will do,” Olli said, with a nod and a vague wave directed to Paul over his shoulder. 

Paul nodded, and waited in the reception area, idly flicking through a magazine, whilst Richard popped back upstairs again to visit Schneider; as it turned out, the drummer didn’t want anything except for a decent sleep and plenty of water.

****

The trees were silent around them as Paul leant back against the sturdy trunk of a tree, hands resting upon the rough bark, and his palms scraped slightly against the roughness of it. He sighed and spread his legs a little more, as Richard knelt before him with a wicked grin thrown up at him. Paul rested his head against the tree, with a sigh and closed his eyes; he smiled slightly when he felt Richard’s fingers digging his belt free from the buckle, zip sliding open with a rough clatter of metal, before he felt Richard’s fingers slowly easing his length from his boxers.

“Reesh,” Paul murmured with a smile, as he felt the other vampire kissing the tip of his cock, before slowly easing Paul’s length inside his mouth. 

Paul was glad for the privacy of their surrounds; once they’d determined that they wouldn’t be needed on set for a while, they’d slid away, under the pretext of finding food. After satisfying their craving for blood, they'd taken advantage for their break to spend a little quality time alone with each other. They’d found a thickly growing bunch of trees to winnow in between, in the hopes that the thickly packed trunks would offer them some privacy. 

Paul’s thoughts scattered when Richard’s mouth began moving against his length, lips and tongue licking and sucking and laving at him, seeming to pull reason and sense form his body as well as wrenching deep seated groans from Paul’s throat and lower still in his chest. Paul inhaled deeply as Richard tilted his head slightly, adjusted the angle a little so that he took Paul deeper into his throat; a great shuddering sigh rattled out of Paul’s throat at that, as Richard’s fingers curled around the base of his cock, and began to stroke him when his mouth was not on him. Paul’s groans grew deeper, longer, filled with agonised hitches of pleasure-pain, and he released with Richard's name moaned lowly into the darkness. He felt Richard swallowing around him, soft tongue soon lapping the remnants of Paul’s release away before the other vampire pulled away with a smug smile. Richard stood and brushed the worst of the leaves from his knees, a disgusted pout on his face at the mess. Paul was too lust-riddled still to react properly; instead, he remained where he leant against the tree, head resting against the rough surface of it, as he slowly smiled at the other man.

He watched with lazy interest, as Richard unzipped himself, eased his own cock out of his boxers and began to stroke himself, gaze resting upon Paul. Paul recovered as quickly as he could, before he sank down in front of Richard, mouth closing over the end of his lover’s cock, lips chasing Richard's fingers away as he slid his lips over the other vampire’s length. His eyes closed as he began slowly pleasuring Richard, the familiar weight and taste of his lover’s cock sliding over his tongue as his head bobbed faster, faster, faster still, Richard’s aroused groans coiling through the air as his fingers snarled in Paul’s hair. It didn’t take long for the other vampire to come, to spill out over Paul’s tongue with a loud sigh of completion, and Paul cleaned him as best as he could, tongue lapping at the mess until all was swallowed and Richard was clean again.

Paul stood and helped Richard back into his underwear again, fingers lingering against his lover’s skin and body, wishing to prolong the contact for as long as he could. Richard’s laughter was deep and dark, making Paul shudder with the lewd promises held within it; the other vampire remained motionless, hands dangling in relaxation by his side, as he allowed Paul to zip him up again. Paul then felt the heavy weight of Richard’s hands against his hips, before the other vampire leant in, and captured Paul’s mouth in an open-mouthed and messy kiss, tongue sliding between Paul’s lips to stroke at his tongue and his fangs. Paul moaned at that; he always loved it when Richard played with his fangs, as though those elongated canines were connected to every single pleasure receptor he had which shot almost overwhelming pleasure throughout his body. Richard teased his tongue against Paul’s fangs still further, and Paul moaned louder still.

Paul eased away and rested his forehead against Richard’s, eyes closed and a smile curving his mouth as Richard reached up, and hooped fingers against Paul’s chin, thumb rubbing and dragging gently over Paul’s lower lip. Paul nibbled at Richard's thumb gently, teasingly, enjoying the continued close proximity of his lover; Richard seemed to want to continue snuggling, and to prolong contact as much as Paul apparently did.

“I love you,” Paul murmured against Richard‘s thumb. 

“Me, too,” Richard said, as he stole another kiss from Paul’s mouth. “And I will ‘til the end of time.”

Paul smiled again, and knew that that was no empty promise; Richard literally would love him until the end of time. 

“Hmm,” he said. “I wish we could go back to the hotel now.”

He turned an impish grin up onto Richard, arousal still not quite satisfied, and he knew that only love-making would sate it. Richard laughed and curled his arms tighter around Paul’s body, before he nuzzled against Paul’s nose affectionately.

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured. “I love it.” 

“What are you talking about, Reesh? You’re worse than I am,” Paul said, with a laugh.

“Hmm, well, there’s nothing against doing it here, seeing as we can’t go to the hotel,” Richard pointed out. “Seeing as you're still ready to go and all.”

Paul laughed at that, but didn’t offer protest when Richard made short work of stripping his trousers, heavy material soon pooling at Paul‘s ankles. Richard stepped away far enough so that Paul could pull them over his boots and kick them away; he turned round and braced himself against the closest tree. He heard the soft catch and drag of Richard’s zipper being pulled down again, before he felt his lover crowding in to press soft kisses against the nape of his neck; they remained twined together like that for a while until Richard’s cock stirred into life again. Richard had no choice but to spit on his hand, using his saliva as make-shift lube. Whilst he wasn’t usually keen on that approach, he knew that he had no other choice as he had no proper lube to hand; Paul assured him that there was little danger of damage that couldn’t be healed quickly anyway. 

Richard prepared Paul as swiftly and as gently as he could, before spitting on his hand again and rubbing over his aching length. He guided himself into Paul with a deep groan, heard the hitching sounds that Paul made, pleasure-pain mixed with deep discomfort which soon gave way to moans of satisfaction. 

“Are you alright?” Richard asked, as he soothed one hand over the curve of Paul’s naked hip. “D’you need more time, my love?” 

“I’m okay, Reesh,” Paul said, and there was a satisfied sigh in his voice when he spoke. “Thanks, lover.” 

Richard hummed, a deep purr that vibrated in his chest as he slowly began to thrust into Paul, ever mindful of his partner's continued comfort; he found that his worry soon was unfounded, for Paul showed no further signs of pain or discomfort. Instead, his partner’s body was as plaint and as eager as ever, moving in time with his as Richard continued to thrust into him, hips driving deeper into Paul. He felt the muscles in Paul's back move as the other vampire lifted one hand, to balance one handed against the tree, whilst he touched himself, hand moving in time with Richard's continued thrusting. Paul’s groans turned desperate, arousal clear in every noise that he made, senseless incoherencies that dropped into dead air around them. Richard closed his eyes, mouth parted as he lost himself to his lover, to the feel of Paul responsive and loud against him and his climax coiled through his abdomen, radiating outwards until his whole body felt alive and powerful.

“Oh, fuck, Paul,” he groaned, before he climaxed with a scream of Paul’s name, hands gripping tightly to his lover’s hips hard enough to leave bruises twisted into pale skin. 

He rode his climax out to the last, felt it in his lover’s body when Paul’s own climax hit, loud curses falling thickly from the other vampire’s lips. Richard eased away once he was fully sated, before he pecked kisses against Paul's face, hands resting gently against his lover’s back when Paul turned to face him once more. Paul happened to have tissues in his pocket, which they used to clean themselves up, and it was as they were doing their belts up again, that they heard the first burst of laughter from nearby. Paul stiffened, head still bowed as he listened for further noise. Richard, beside him, looked up sharply, body on the alert as he twisted this way and that, hoping to see who was nearby and laughing at them.

“Who the fuck is that?” Richard yelled, but there was no other answer than continued laughter. 

Paul turned when he thought that he heard sounds coming from behind them, as of feet scuffling through the dead leaves piled beneath the trees nearby. He thought that he caught sight of bare limbs flailing, dark hair streaming, before the fleeting image was lost to the trees once more. 

“We know you’re there,” Paul tried. 

“Don’t fuck with us,” Richard added, anger literally thrumming through his body, turning every muscle taut.

Paul turned to Richard, and was surprised at the change rendered in his lover from a few moments before and at how angry he looked. Paul rarely saw Richard that angry. Paul turned away again with a lustful shudder; he still felt enough unspent arousal to react to Richard's sudden extreme change in mood. Anger seemed to lend Richard an extra sexual edge, power thrumming around his body and lending him a dangerous air. Again, the sounds came and went, as of feet pounding against bare earth and through dry, dewed leaves, feminine voices calling and laughing, yet the words themselves remained indistinct, as though whoever was there spoke from a long way off.

“What the fuck is going on?” Richard asked, alarm masking out the anger from before, so that his face turned ashen in the dimness.

He turned this way and that, yet neither vampire could pinpoint exactly where the voices were coming from. They couldn't even see anyone anymore; all they could hear was the passage of bare feet against the ground, and odd swishes where their clothing caught against bush and tree alike. As suddenly as it had started, the noisy onslaught stopped, leaving the two vampires alone and in sudden silent stillness. The air regained its dead quality again, leaving only a void, sick and blighted, behind. 

“I fucking hate it here,” Paul said, and his fear boosted his anger until his voice was crackling beneath the force of it. 

“So do I. I think I need a fucking drink,” Richard said, but his voice, and demeanour, was wearied to the point of exhaustion. “D’you think the others will miss us if we skip out early?”

“I don't think so, but we’d best check. I mean, they haven’t exactly needed us yet, but you never can tell whether Ben might need us after all,” Paul pointed out, as he thought of their eternally harried director. 

They headed out in the direction of the set again, yet it took them longer than they’d expected to find it. Much like the evening before when they’d searched for the missing Olli, they seemed to go in circles, tracks leading back to the same stand of trees where they'd desperately made love, easily identified by the tissues left behind, screwed up and shoved between the branches like an eternal testament to all that had gone on within the branchy confines. 

After the third passing of the same stand of trees, they managed to find their way back to the set, yet the director was not pleased with the idea of them leaving early, as they were, actually needed for part of the next scene. Paul and Richard had no choice but to remain on set after all.

****


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter was actually inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://thefullmotivationispeople.tumblr.com/post/130117282159/frankmorys-two-vampire-friends-lying-on-the), the basis of which reads - _two vampire friends lying on the floor getting drunk and describing each other because they can’t use mirrors don’t even try to tell me that isn’t adorable_
> 
> A special thanks goes to [thefullmotivationispeople](http://thefullmotivationispeople.tumblr.com/) for thinking of me and originally tagging me on said post; it certainly inspired me, which is always super and very much appreciated!   
> Thanks also go to [Frankieteardrop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankieteardrop) for telling me of the same post via a comment on this site and to [Darby_Harper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Darby_Harper) for encouraging me to go ahead and do it! I really hope that you guys haven’t forgotten all about this, because the drunken vampire scene has been a while coming. (I did promise that I would write it and here it is, at last, hoorah! XD ) I’m not quite sure how good it actually turned out, but I tried my best and had fun with it, so yay! :o)

Paul sighed as he sank down upon the hard bed, body lying prostrate and spread across the covers, two wine bottles still held firmly between his fingers. Richard sat beside him, but didn’t lay down as Paul had; instead he cupped his chin in his hands, elbows resting upon his thighs as he did so. Both vampires still felt unsettled after their experiences in the forest earlier in the night and had decided to get drunk as a consequence, to try and forget.

“D’you really think we can still actually get drunk?” Richard asked, as he stared at the bottles that Paul clutched. “Can we even keep it down, more to the point? We seem to throw anything else up, that‘s not blood.” 

“I really don’t know, but I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Paul said, with a smile. “I guess we can always fool ourselves into thinking it’s blood; it is red wine, after all.”

The bottles had been plundered from Flake’s room, who, as it turned out, was just as curious as the vampires were to see whether they could still attain the same level of drunkenness as they had when they’d still been human. They’d both promised to return and tell him the results, despite the fact that Richard had complained over being used as Fake‘s personal scientific experiment. 

Richard hummed out his agreement to Paul‘s earlier comment, but to Paul’s keen ears, he didn’t sound convinced. Paul laughed at that, yet couldn't blame his lover; he wasn’t convinced himself, either. He sat up, and handed one of the bottles to Richard, who took it with a grateful nod, dark hair dipping beneath the harsh lights of the bedroom. 

“Let’s turn the lights down,” Paul suggested. “Get a better ambience that way.”

“You and your bloody ambience,” Richard said, with a laugh, that was teasing, rather than mocking.

“Well, we need the right atmosphere, don’t we? It should be romantic, considering we’re drinking red wine,” Paul pointed out, with a sharp grin thrown over his shoulder at Richard. 

Again, Richard hummed and nodded, but didn’t pass further comment as Paul twisted the dimmer switch until he was satisfied with the level of the light. He returned then to Richard's side, settling gracefully down beside the other vampire, close enough so that their thighs were aligned. Paul momentarily, and awkwardly, rested his head against Richard’s shoulder; the other vampire pressed a soft kiss against the top of Paul's head before he returned his gaze to his bottle. Paul watched as Richard uncorked the bottle easily, using merely the strength in his fingers, twisting it out of the neck with a pop as though it was nothing.

“Oohh, strong man,” Paul teased, even as he repeated the gesture with even more finesse than Richard had done.

“Likewise,” Richard said, with a laugh, before he tilted the bottle’s neck towards his mouth.

Paul watched the other vampire as he took his first tentative sip of the drink; whilst Richard almost lost even that small amount due to his new and improved vampiric body rejecting anything remotely man-made, he still managed to force it to stay down.

“Not pleasant, but doable,” Richard said, with a grimace. “I’d rather have a pint of blood, though.”

“We’ll get some more tomorrow night,” Paul promised him before tilting his own bottle to his lips and taking a belt from it. “Fucking disgusting stuff. I don’t know how humans can even drink this shit.”

Richard’s laughter was loud and immediately joyful, and Paul turned confused eyes onto his lover. 

“Now what?” Paul asked.

“Spoken like a true vampire,” Richard pointed out. “I think you’ve finally grown accustomed to it.”

“Maybe,” Paul admitted with a grin. “Just a little.”

Richard merely nodded and tilted the bottle back to his own lips again. Fifteen minutes alter and the bottles were drained dry, and the vampires were staring mindlessly into space again.

“Oh fuck,” Paul said, as he suddenly bolted upright and headed for the bathroom.

Richard could hear the sound of his lover vomiting, voiding himself of the drink he’d consumed. Richard followed soon after, eyes closed against the vicious voiding of alcohol from his stomach.

“Guess we couldn’t keep the drink down, after all,” Paul said, gloomily once it was over. “I think we need to find someone who’s already drunk, and take blood from them.” 

“Yeah,” Richard said, in distaste. “I suppose that’s our only option if we wanna actually get drunk.”

****

They found a couple of drunken louts outside the hotel, waving and weaving their way through the streets. They’d obviously arrived fresh from a party, and were oblivious to the presence of the vampires, until it was too late; Richard and Paul dragged them, once mesmerised, into a nearby alleyway, for extra privacy, before they began to feed, greedily. Richard and Paul took their fill, and abandoned the dazed and confused victims, to return to the hotel once more.

****

Half an hour after their return, both vampires were stretched out upon their bed, staring up at the ceiling, with their hands entwined; Paul was giggling about something known only to himself. 

“Love yoooo, Reeshy-buns,” he suddenly said, as he turned into Richard to plant sloppy, drunken kisses against his lover‘s neck. “Always will love you.”

Richard nodded, eyes drifting closed momentarily. 

“I think I love being a vampire, you know,” Paul said, a little more soberly than previously.

“Yeah? How so?” Richard asked, without opening his eyes. 

He was finding it hard to concentrate, and the darkness, that always seemed within reach whilst he was sober, seemed to be wrapping itself firmly about his mind and his body now that he was a little drunk. He wondered then why he couldn’t be a happy drunk, like Paul. 

“Love the power,” Paul said, with a giggle and sudden wriggle of socked feet high in the air. “Can you not feel it? Such power, as though I can wield magic.”

“Don’t be daft,” Richard said, without any real conviction.

He knew that there was truth in Paul’s words, and he couldn't disagree. 

“We have the power to kill people or not and no one need know it,” Paul continued. “We don’t even look any different to anyone else, unless we smile too widely.”

“Yeah. Shame about the lack of a reflection, though,” Richard pointed out gloomily. “I kinda miss that, y‘know. Never can tell whether I still look the same or not.” 

“I wouldn’t worry, Reesh; you’re still as gorgeous as ever,” Paul assured him, mock-solemnly. 

“Am I, though?” Richard asked, gloomily. “Way I feel right now is like some kind of monster.” 

“You’re not a monster. You’re lovely,” Paul said, as he pressed snuggling kisses against Richard's jaw and throat. “Hmm.” 

Richard had to laugh at that, as Paul pressed even more kisses against him, hand travelling beneath the covering of Richard's shirt to rest against the softness of his belly. Paul squeezed gently, before he spoke again.

“Love your body, soft and nicely rounded, but still strong and muscular,” he said. “Your face is as handsome as it ever was, no blemishes and beautiful soulful eyes. Nice kissable lips ... d’you want me to go on?”

“No,” Richard said, feeling a sudden embarrassment at that, even though he couldn’t truly say why. “Is that how you really see me?” 

“Yeah,” Paul said, happily. “Your bum’s pretty nice, too.” 

“My bum,” Richard said, and he tilted his head back and laughed loudly and at great length.

“No laughing; it’s not funny,” Paul said, as he twisted away with a pout.

Richard grabbed him and turned Paul back to face him again. 

“You’re one soppy bastard, Paulchen, but I do love you,” he said, quietly, as he stared at Paul at close range. “More than I can ever really say.”

“Super. So, what do you like about me? Do I still look the same? Oh fuck. Do I have more grey hairs?” Paul asked, yet Richard couldn't tell if he was joking or not. “Jesus, I wish I could use a mirror, to see that.”

“No,” Richard said, with a smile, and he meant it.

Paul had as many grey hairs gracing his beard and his temples as he had before his change. 

“No to what?” Paul asked, with a frown of confusion. 

“To the grey hair,” Richard replied. “You have the same amount now as you did before. And I happen to like it. Makes you look distinguished. As to what else I love about you; I love your eyes. You have kind eyes, and a beautiful smile. I think you have a lovely body, and your bum’s nice too. Not as nice as mine, though.” 

“Fuck you,” Paul said, as he laughingly pushed Richard away. 

Richard rolled further onto his back, hand thrown out by his side, fingers splayed. Paul settled further into him again, head resting upon his shoulder, hand splayed lightly against Richard's abdomen. They lay in companionable silence for a while, clock on the wall ticking away the seconds loudly, moving each one from the future into the past. After half an hour had passed, Richard sighed, and attracted the bright-eyed attention of Paul again. Paul looked as suddenly sober as Richard himself felt. 

“I fell quite sober all of a sudden, y’know, Paulchen,” Richard said, morosely. “Think the alcohol must have worn off already.” 

“Or we digested it, and the vampiric healing got rid of it for us,” Paul said, and even his voice sounded as normal as it ever did.

“Fuck, we can’t even get drunk for long, any more,” Richard sighed. 

“Well, at least we still can smoke,” Paul said. “And make love. Not necessarily in that order, but we still can enjoy life’s little vices.” 

“Hmm,” Richard agreed, with a nod. “Wouldn't mind sex and a cigarette right now, actually. In that order.” 

Paul laughed but didn’t protest when Richard hauled him to his feet by both hands and bundled him away from the bed slightly, hands grappling at clothing and stripping the layers away until there was nothing left but bare skin and tattoos in the dim lighting. Paul settled upon the bed again, a sigh breaking from his lips as he did so, eyes closing when he felt the first press and sweep of Richard's hands exploring his body, fingers caressing and tickling their way across every inch and scrap of bare skin that the other vampire could reach. Paul wriggled and arched his back, lips curving into a contented smile as Richard stroked at his sides and abdomen, hoping to gain more comfort and contact from the other vampire. Richard laughed at that, deep rumbling gruff sounds as Paul continued to wriggle pleasurably beneath his ministrations. Paul was then rewarded by a quick kiss to the sternum, then on the clavicle, a quick vampire-kiss to the throat, before Richard's mouth was transferred to Paul's mouth, kiss deep and open and languid. Richard's hands still rested upon Paul’s chest and Paul reached up to slide his fingers beneath the hem of Richard's shirt, to push the material up and away from his lover's body.

“Need you naked,” he said, when the kiss ended. “Can’t be clothed whilst you’re fucking me.”

Richard laughed again and stepped away, to strip his clothes neatly and methodically from his body; Paul watched every single movement with avid attention, licking his lips when saw the long line of Richard's erection revealed to the light. Richard left to pluck the lube from the en-suite bathroom’s paltry excuse for a cabinet, before returning to pull their condoms from Paul’s bag, and finally returned to Paul’s side. 

Paul settled on his stomach, pillows piled beneath his hips and abdomen, eyes closed whilst he waited. He felt the bed dip beneath Richard’s weight, before he heard the sounds of the lube being uncapped and then Paul felt the first sweep of slick fingers against his hole. He made an embarrassing, pleased sound at that, which made Richard laugh, and press kisses against the back of Paul’s neck, fangs brushing against the sensitive skin there. Paul made another pleasured noise at the tickling sensations his lover‘s fangs and lips made against his neck, dick hardening still further at that; he knew that Richard could literally do anything to him whilst he still lay there, naked and vulnerable, yet he trusted Richard to not hurt him. Whilst he had the strength now to repel attack, and accompanying faster reflexes, Richard had matching speed, matching reflexes and so, could still inflict any sort of damage upon him that he wanted.

Instead, Richard pressed gentle kisses against Paul’s shoulders as he continued preparing his lover, sighs escaping Paul’s lips as Richard stretched him. Finally, Richard eased away and Paul witted, finally rewarded by the feel of Richard pressing up against him, catching slightly before thrusting completely in. Richard waited for Paul to adjust before he began to move, movements of his hips slow at first and then gaining more force. Paul groaned, rocking back onto his lover’s body every time that Richard drew away. He reached down and started to touch himself, fingers moving in time with Richard’s thrusts; he heard Richard’s deep aroused groans coming from behind him, and then his orgasm hit, and rolled over him, stripped away everything that was Paul and left nothing behind but pleasure and arousal and relieved release and love. Moments later he felt Richard stiffen, heard his own name fall from the other vampire’s lips before Richard climaxed with a deep groan of completion. Richard rolled away, and Paul smiled, as he felt Richard reach up and take his hand, to kiss the knuckles one by one.

****


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to post this chapter yesterday afternoon, yet alas, my computer died on Tuesday and I've only just gotten a new one late today. (My only access to the internet since then has been via my tablet and I can't update from there.) Sorry for the delay, but hopefully I'll be back on schedule, now! Yay!

The following night, Richard and Flake stood side by side, as they watched Paul filming his scene. Paul was strapped down to a rock, and was currently being flogged by someone dressed as a witch. Richard had to admit that the sight looked incredibly hot, and he had to swallow down his own arousal; he could hear the sounds of the whip, an odd swish-crack flicking through the air; whilst the whip rarely hit, designed to look as though Paul was taking blows when he really wasn’t, an odd blow did land sometimes, and Paul’s agonised yell reached up to meet the stars above. Richard hoped that he was the only one who heard the arousal beneath the pain. He wondered if perhaps Paul was secretly enjoying himself, despite his earlier grumbles about having to be whipped; it certainly sounded to Richard’s keen ears as though he was, which surprised him. He hadn’t even been aware that Paul was interested in that sort of thing; Richard couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Paul could be talked into doing a little pain-play in the bedroom.

“Reesh?” Flake suddenly said, beside him.

“Hmm?” Richard asked, not daring to say anything more than that for fear of revealing the lust that simmered hotly inside. 

“Can I ask you something?” Flake asked. “Something that’s been bothering me for a while, actually.”

“Hmm,” Richard said, as he tapped out a cigarette from the pack he pulled from his pocket, more to distract himself from budding arousal than actually needing a smoke.

He offered the pack to Flake who thanked him and took one; he waited whilst Richard lit their cigarettes, before speaking again.

“Neither you nor Paul have reflections, right?” Flake asked, as he sent a plume of smoke up towards the sky. 

“We don’t,” Richard said, slowly, wondering what Flake was even thinking of.

“Right, so how do you even shave?” Flake asked. “I swear that neither of you look any different and you’re not growing a beard. Well, Paul’s beard is no different to normal.”

“We shave each other, Flake,” Richard said, voice slightly muffled from where his cigarette was clamped between his lips. 

“You do? How the hell do you do that?” Flake asked, in surprise.

“Simple really,” Richard said, with a shrug. “You just have to get used to facing whoever you’re shaving and to shaving backwards, as it were.”

“Oh,” Flake said, and he actually sounded disappointed by the revelation.

“What did you think we did? Magic the whiskers away?” Richard asked, with a sudden laugh squeezed past his cigarette. 

“I dunno,” Flake said, with a shrug. “It just seems a little mundane, is all.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Richard said, with a shrug.

Flake merely grunted and shrugged; Richard huffed out a humourless laugh, uncertain as to what else he was supposed to say beneath Flake’s withering disappointment. Instead, he turned his attentions back to Paul, who had just finished his scene and even now was being untied from the rock. Richard waited until Paul had joined him again, before he slipped one arm around his lover’s waist; Richard leant in, and dotted a kiss against Paul’s temple, nostrils suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of arousal clinging to his lover’s skin. 

“Jesus,” Richard muttered, as he stared at Paul’s dilated eyes and impish grin. 

“What?” Flake asked, as he cast a glance at the vampires. 

“Nothing,” Richard said, immediately, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Paul was aroused. 

Richard was glad that Paul was mostly covered by the loose fitting and very thick coat he’d pulled on, which effectively hid his very obvious arousal from view; only Richard with his sensitive nose, and the added awareness of Paul’s erection pressed against his thigh, knew that anything was different about his lover. Paul chuckled at him and winked. 

“Think we can slip off, again, lover?” he asked, quietly. “I seem to need a little attention.”

“So I gathered,” Richard said, with a snort. “I can smell, and feel, it a mile away.”

Paul grinned at him, even as Flake stared at them suspiciously.

“What are you two whispering about?” he asked. “Not me, I hope.” 

“No, you’re alright, Flake,” Paul assured him, with a sigh. “We’re talking about ... feeding, actually. Satisfying our hunger, if you like.”

“Satisfying something,” Richard muttered, and received a hefty belt to the stomach from Paul’s sharp elbow. 

“Oh, well, so long as you’re not talking about eating me, then that’s aright,” Flake said, gloomily. 

“You’re safe, Flake,” Richard assured him.

“Good,” Flake replied, darkly.

****

Paul and Richard slipped off soon afterwards, to find a convenient spot to make love in. Paul was especially subservient that night, loud and responsively eager cries falling from his lips and he climaxed harder than he had in a while. Richard seemed to enjoy the coupling as much as Paul, mind still running over the memories of Paul becoming aroused by being whipped. 

They made their way back to the set, and surprised a couple of crew members, lugging extra lighting rigs through the trees; Paul and Richard took the opportunity to mesmerise them, before fangs flashed and sank deep within waiting flesh, blood welling and spilling over tongues and lips and embedded fangs. Paul eased away before Richard did, sated on blood and on earlier sex, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and saw scant traces of blood smeared upon the skin. He licked the traces away before he reached out, one hand resting upon Richard's shoulder; Richard was still feeding and only eased away when Paul squeezed his shoulder and jerked insistently backwards. Richard eased his fangs free from his victim and smiled a slow and lazy smile at Paul, mouth still ringed and tinged with blood.

“You nearly went too far again, lover,” Paul said, sadly. 

Richard’s smile faded and he risked a glance towards his victim, still mesmerised, still thankfully alive.

“He’s fine,” Paul assured him. “He won’t remember a thing. I did stop you just in time, though. Any longer, and he wouldn’t have been amongst the living any more.”

“Jesus,” Richard said, before falling silent again.

There seemed little that either one of them could say; instead, Paul reached out to take Richard’s hand, and tugged it, until the other vampire followed him. They flitted through the trees, leaving their latest victims to recover alone. They managed to find the rest of the crew who wasn’t working surrounding a fire; it seemed as though there was some kind of party atmosphere going on, with a make-shift barbecue being set up. Olli and Till were helping to cook the meat, strung out on great spits, whilst Flake stood alone, sour-faced and nursing a can of beer in one hand. 

“I’m gonna go talk to Flake,’” Paul announced.

Richard nodded and watched as his lover slinked away, every movement fluid and graceful as he skirted around jostling bodies; Richard smiled when Paul looked over his shoulder at him, eyes glimmering with mirthful joy, as though Paul was enjoying every last experience that he could get. Richard's grin grew wider at that; sometimes, he wondered if he lived vicariously through Paul, gaining joy from things that he ordinarily wouldn’t have noticed, especially during the times when he was at his darkest and most desperate. The other vampire seemed to garner joy out of even the simplest of things and Richard supposed that he needed that. He stood alone, his mind still filled with thoughts of his lover and watched the proceedings unfolding around him, before overhearing a conversation nearby.

“I heard tales told of this forest while in town earlier, that unexplained things happened here,” a voice said. 

“What kind of things?” another voice asked, curiously.

“UFO’s, unseen bodies, spectres, poltergeists, the works. It’s supposed to be the most haunted forest in the world,” the first voice said. “People go missing and aren’t seen again. One person even went missing for five years and came back wondering why everything had changed. They were even wearing the same clothes, and in the same state, as they’d left.”

“That’s impossible,” the second voice laughed.

“I’m telling you that that’s what I heard; I reckon there’s something in those old tales, ridiculous as they might seem,” the first voice said. “I keep hearing voices in the trees and no one there to make them, and weird lights just floating in the darkness.” 

“I still don’t know if I believe it, but it’s the perfect place for a Rammstein video, I suppose, in that case; no wonder they picked it,” the second voice said, before both speakers drifted away, voices soon drowned out by the general melee that surrounded Richard.

Richard snorted to himself, and didn’t bother checking to see who had spoken; it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. The fact that Rammstein hadn’t actually chosen the location wasn’t lost on Richard; the revelation that the forest had the reputation it had was new to him, however. He wondered if it was worth Googling Hoia Baciu forest, just to see whether the stories were true; he knew however, that that would have to come later, when he was alone with Paul again, in their hotel room. 

****


	9. Chapter 9

Schneider left the warmth of the fireside and headed into the trees; his bladder was screaming for release and he tried to find a suitable spot to relieve himself. Once he was satisfied that he’d taken himself far enough away to do so without being observed, he hid still further behind a likely tree and relieved himself against it. He sighed with relief, and zipped himself up again once he was finished. 

He turned away and that was when he first saw the shapes moving from the corner of his eye. He turned, with a cry of alarm, yet he could see that there was nothing there; the trees around him were as still and as silent as they had been when he'd left the set. He turned away and began walking again; he flinched when he thought he saw movement for a second time. Despite his initial flinching reaction, he ignored the movement, but when he heard the sounds of many scuttling legs, he turned again with a sharp cry of disgusted horror, mind filled with horrifying images of rodents, or worse still, spiders.

“Who the fuck’s there?” he yelled. 

He thought he saw lights shifting amongst the trees, low to the ground yet swirling in intricate patterns, mesmerising and beautiful, yet cold and ominously deadly. Schneider watched transfixed for a time, before the scuttling sounds came closer, and he snapped his eyes away from the lights with an effort, in time to see many legged, giant bodies scuttling amongst the bushes and the trees around him.

“Oh fuck, no,” Schneider said, in horror, as he realised that the sounds he’d heard had been made by a veritable army of large-bodied, long-legged spiders. “Fuck off!” 

He turned and stumbled away blindly, eyes staring widely without truly seeing a thing, hands groping just as blindly as he fought his way back through the trees and suddenly grabbing undergrowth to return to the clearing and company and warm, comforting fire. He almost made it, before the first spider fell on him, heavily thumping against his head, another on his shoulder, and that was when he started to scream uncontrollably.

****

Paul settled beside Flake and smiled at him, before he said - “What did we miss while we were feeding?”

He coughed and tried to look as innocent as possible when the keyboardist glanced his way; despite the fact that Flake had probably already guessed that Richard and Paul had left to make love, he still didn’t want to admit to it out loud. There were some things that Paul wished to remain as private as possible between himself and his vampire lover. 

“Not much,” Flake said, with a disgruntled shrug. “Till’s recording one of his scenes at the moment.”

“Is he? What’s he doing?” Paul asked, as he watched Richard from across the clearing. 

Richard seemed to be locked in his own thoughts, eyes gazing sightlessly at the flames flickering before him; Paul wondered what he was thinking about. Richard looked serious, and thoughtful, as though he had something on his mind. 

“I dunno; I think he’s riding a horse,” Flake said. “I hope he doesn’t fall and break his leg.”

“Why on earth would he do that for?” Paul asked, with a sudden laugh. “I’m sure he’s better than that at keeping on a horse.” 

“Maybe so, but accidents happen,” Flake said, a little gloomily. “I can’t wait to go home.”

“You’ve said that, many a time and I can’t help you with that,” Paul said. “I’m sorry. We’ve only got to put up with this for a few more days and you’re free.”

“At least you’re alright here,” Flake said. “Being in Transylvania and everything.” 

“Well, I’d rather be in Berlin,” Paul said, in confusion. 

“Yeah, but this is the right place for vampires, isn’t it? Vlad Dracul and all that jazz,” Flake pointed out. 

“Maybe so, but I still prefer Berlin,” Paul said, with a baffled chuckle. “You know what they say, you can take the boy out of Berlin, but you can’t take Berlin out of the boy. Or something to that effect.” 

He shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Flake didn’t seem to notice, or else, he didn’t much care; Paul was betting on the latter. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there were real vampires, here, you know,” Flake said. 

“Well, I’m a real vampire,” Paul said. “So’s Richard. The fangs are real, I can assure you.” 

“Horrible ones, I mean,” Flake clarified, with an apologetic tilt of his head towards Paul. “You and Richard are friendly ones.”

“Well, thank you very much, Flake, I’m glad you think so,” Paul said, with a laugh despite his pleasure over Flake‘s inadvertent compliment. 

“Or murderers,” Flake said, seemingly apropos to nothing.

“Say what now?” Paul asked, bafflement returning suddenly.

“Murderers. In the forest,” Flake said, as he gestured over his shoulder at the trees with his beer-can. “I’m sure I saw one last night.”

“A murderer? How could you even tell?” Paul asked. 

“I just could. He looked shifty,” Flake replied, defiantly. “He was wearing a trench-coat.” 

“And trench-coats immediately denotes murderer, yes?“ Paul asked, with a snort. “I’m sure they’re a very popular coat, Flake. Not everyone who wears one is immediately a murderer.” 

“I know, but this guy was; I could tell. He had a knife in his hand,” Flake said. 

“A knife?” Paul asked, in sudden alarm. “Did you tell anyone? The director, perhaps?” 

“No,” Flake said. “The murderer was gone too quickly and I haven’t seen him again. I didn‘t think Ben would take me seriously.” 

“Still ... “ Paul said, uncertainly. 

He didn’t get the chance to speak further before sudden yells were heard coming from the forest. Paul looked across the flames of the fire dominating the clearing, just as Schneider burst from between the trees, long curly hair flying as he scrambled wildly and haphazardly, clawing at his hair, at his shirt, at his coat, in seemingly random patterns.

“Get them off me, get them off me,” he was yelling.

Richard and Paul were the first to react, to run to Schneider‘s side with supernaturally quick movements. Richard placed his hands upon Schneider’s shoulders and soothed him, quietly. Schneider soon calmed down, but his eyes still looked crazed and a little wild around the edges.

“What happened?” Richard asked, as he continued stroking soothingly at Schneider calmly. 

“Spiders. Fucking great hordes of them,” Schneider said, chest still heaving with his previous exertions. “They were all over me.” 

“There’s nothing there now,” Paul said, as he stared at Schneider, hands running experimentally over the drummer’s head.

“They were there, I’m telling you,” Schneider insisted. “I fucking hate this place, Paulie.” 

“I'm not exactly a big fan either, but we’re gonna have to like it and lump it, I’m afraid,” Paul replied, as he exchanged a glance with Richard. “Just for a few more days.”

Schneider said, nothing to that, merely continued scrubbing at his hair and at his clothes in distaste.

****

Paul settled down beside Richard in bed, and stared at the other vampire’s profile. Richard seemed to be staring into space again, fangs worrying at his lower lip as he ruminated over something. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Paul asked, in concern.

“What?” Richard asked returning to the present as he cast a glance towards Paul. 

“I asked if you were okay,” Paul repeated. “You don’t seem as though you’re really with me, tonight.” 

“Oh, I am; I’m just thinking,” Richard said, and seemed about to say something but changed his mind at the last minute.

“About what?” Paul asked when the other vampire didn’t immediately elaborate. 

“I was just thinking about that scene you were recording earlier in the night,” Richard finally confessed. 

“The whipping scene?” Paul asked, with a laugh. “Yeah, that was super.”

“I noticed,” Richard said, but he cut himself off and Paul had the sudden feeling that there was more that Richard had wanted to say. 

Paul laughed, but didn’t immediately add anything to the conversation. 

“Yeah, it was. Forgive me for asking you this, Paul, but there’s no easy way to do this. How long have you liked being whipped?” Richard asked, and there was a sudden tinge of embarrassment colouring his cheeks at the question. “I mean, we did that whole whipping scene for the Rosenrot video, but you never really showed as much enthusiasm for it then as you did tonight.” 

“Oh, I liked it; thought it had great release,” Paul told him, with a laugh. “But it was me doing it to myself. I think this was the first time that anyone else had, you know, actually whipped me.”

“And you liked it,” Richard said, but the words wren more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Paul said, with a slight smile. “I think enjoyed it though is more apt.”

“Yeah, I could tell, if the sex afterwards was anything to go by,” Richard said, with a snort of a laugh. 

Even though the tone that Richard used was flippant, there was a dark hope in his eyes; Paul guessed that Richard was interested, but didn’t like to admit to it, nor ask outright for permission to whip Paul himself. Paul decided to go for broke and say something to Richard about it, himself. 

“Well, I wouldn’t object to it, if you wanted to whip me yourself, Reesh, if you’re willing, that is. And interested,” Paul said, as his smile lost some of its lewdness and turned hopeful. “I heal fast.” 

“I know,” Richard said, with a grin that was dark and eager. “Well, might as well try it out, I suppose. If you're willing, or offering, or whatever.” 

His tone was casual, but Paul sensed that his offer was what Richard had been hoping for all along. 

“Oh, wow, Reesh, don’t sound too eager, now, will you?” Paul snorted, but he looked pleased all the same. 

Richard laughed, before he stared at Paul, smile still decorating his mouth and warming his eyes as his gaze wandered over Paul’s face.

“Do you seriously want me to whip you, Paul?” Richard asked, when Paul tilted his head quizzically at him. 

“Sure, if you’re willing to do it. Why not?” Paul asked, curiosity warming his voice, as his smile broadened. 

“I just never took you for the kinky type, is all,” Richard admitted, as he reached out to lay one hand against Paul’s upper arm, fingers and palm soon describing tender caresses against his lover. “I mean, I could believe it of Till, and Olli ... well, we know about Olli.” 

Paul laughed and nodded at that, but otherwise remained silent.

“But you? I wouldn’t have expected it, really,” Richard repeated.

“Is it such a bad thing?” Paul asked and for one moment, it looked as though it really mattered to him, despite his purposefully light and teasing tone.

“No,” Richard surprised himself by admitting. “Not one bit. In fact, I think it’s a bit of a turn-on.”

“Good,” Paul said, as he reached up to swipe one thumb gently against Richard's lower lip.

He teased the lip down and stared at Richard's fangs with a smile, before he spoke again. 

“I think it’s the change, Reesh,” he said, gently. “I think it might have made me a little kinkier than I used to be. Hell, it might even have changed you, too.” 

Richard’s head tilted back and he laughed, all too aware of Paul’s gaze resting upon the long line of his throat, scorching imaginary aroused lines against his skin.

“Maybe, but one step at a time, okay, love? We’ve got plenty of time to find out if I’ve suddenly grown a kinky side,” Richard said, with a wink. 

“Okay, well, I’ll remind you of that, in the future if I need to,” Paul said, a hopeful expression softening the lines of his face at that. 

Richard smiled, before he kissed the tip of Paul’s thumb when it rubbed against his lower lip again.

“D’you want me to use my belt?” he asked, with a slow grin and even slower wink at the other vampire. 

“We’re starting now?” Paul asked, as he sat up abruptly.

“Why not? We’ve got time. Just,” Richard said, as he checked the clock.

There still was a couple of hours before dawn broke and they needed to hide from the day beneath thick blankets and behind thicker curtains. 

“Okay,” Paul said, enthusiastically, as he stood and began hastily stripping his body of his clothing.

Richard smile and watched for a while, until Paul was wearing nothing but his underwear. He climbed to his feet at Paul’s sharp protest, and stripped himself, retaining the belt from his trousers as he did so. Paul positioned himself upon the bed, back exposed to the light and to Richard, who began to experimentally whip the belt against the other vampire‘s back, slowly, gently, at first, before properly laying into him, at Paul's increasingly aroused insistence. 

Finally, finally, Richard stopped, unable to see his lover abused by his own hand any more; he stared, amazed, at the bright red welts that decorated his lover’s back in stripes. Paul was grinning and fully erect by the time that he slowly, carefully, eased onto his back; Richard, too, was fully erect himself. Their love-making, when it happened, was rough, and loud, mouths battling for dominance as much as their hands and their hips did. Both vampires were too aroused to last long and they came within moments of one another, curses and aroused cries falling from lax lips as they did so. Richard eased away to lay beside his lover, and soothingly caressed Paul’s arm when the other vampire snuggled comfortably into him.

“Thank you,” Paul said, gratefully, as he cast a tired grin into Richard’s face. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

“Bad? It was fucking fantastic,” Richard said. “We are so going to do that again, actually.” 

“Hmm, good,” Paul said, with a nod. “And we’re not gonna stop at whipping. We have a whole plethora of other things to try.” 

“Plethora. Honestly,” Richard said, with a laugh. 

Paul’s only response was to laugh in turn.


	10. Chapter 10

*****

“Did you know your back’s healed already, Paulchen?” Richard asked, the following evening as he followed Paul into the shower. 

He cast his gaze over his lover's back; Paul's skin was now clear of the welts that Richard had laid there the previous night with his belt.

“Hmm? Is it?” Paul asked, but it sounded as though he didn’t care overly much.

“Yeah. No sign of any damage at all,” Richard confirmed, as he ran exploratory fingers over Paul’s unbroken skin. 

“Told you I’d heal,” Paul said, with a shrug. 

“In fact, that poison ivy rash you had the other night has gone as well,” Richard pointed out, as his hands travelled from Paul’s back to the soft flesh of his stomach. “That’s amazing.” 

“Hmm,” Paul said, unimpressed, as he fiddled with the dial upon the shower. 

He fell silent then, until soft moans fell from his lips as Richard began to pleasure him beneath the flowing warm waters of the shower.

*****

Richard crowded in next to Schneider the following evening to watch footage of Till, sitting astride one of the horses that had been brought on set the night before; the previous footage of Till from the night before had been discarded, due to the file being corrupted beyond repair. Earlier in the evening, the horses had encountered the vampires for the first time, and they’d shied and whinnied in protest, until Richard and Paul had made good their escape and removed themselves from the panicking animals’ presence. Richard couldn’t help but remember Paul’s glum face after the debale had occured, and his accompanying comment that it seemed as though all animals thought them evil or unnatural. Richard had tried to console the dejected vampire that the animals obviously had no taste and didn’t know what they were missing out on. That, at least, had made Paul laugh even if didn’t totally assuage his sudden and uncharacteristic depression. Richard could sympathise however; he didn't like the situation any more than Paul did, yet they had no more choice nor say in the matter than the animals did.

“Hey, Ben, what’s that?“ Schneider asked, breaking into Richard’s thoughts as he leant closer to the director.

Richard blinked back into reality again as the director wound the recording back.

“Pause it there,” Schneider said, sharply, as Flake drifted over, attracted by the sharp expressions and sharper voices emanating from around Ben‘s laptop.

In the background of the footage onscreen, beneath the trees that bordered the clearing, were shadowy figures where no figures should have been. All cast and crew that were not specifically needed for the scene were always ordered out of shot.

“Who the fuck is that?” Ben asked angrily. “Who the fuck was in my goddamned shot?”

“Can you enlarge that, zoom in, whatever the hell the technical term is?” Schneider asked, forestalling further directorly explosions.

The director grumbled and did as the drummer had asked, and then they saw that the shadows were not even crew or cast members at all; they were indistinct willo-the-wisp shapes, that resembled aliens more than anything else. 

“What the fuck - ?“ Richard asked, as he leant closer.

“It’s the murderer, isn’t it?” Flake asked.

“Will you shut up about that fucking murderer, Flake? There is no fucking murderer,” Schneider all but yelled in the keyboardist's face.

“Chris,” Richard said, quietly, as he reached out to rest one hand on Schneider’s shoulder. “Shouting won’t help, y’know.” 

“Sorry,” Schneider said, but his apology was half-hearted and arbitrary at best. “But I wish you’d forget about that damned murderer, Flake. It’s getting on my nerves. Sorry, but like I said, there is no murderer. Someone else would have seen him if there had have been one.” 

His glance towards Flake was cursory and fleeting, yet still the keyboardist nodded out his acceptance, face pinched with sourness. Little did any of them know that Schneider would soon be eating his words.

****

“Paulchen, have you seen Ben anywhere?” Till asked, the following evening.

Paul and Richard had only just arrived on set, an hour after everybody else; the vampires had had to feed after rising, and as a consequence, were late. Richard had already wandered away to make-up, leaving Paul lagging behind. 

“We’ve only just arrived, Till; we were held up by searching for our dinner,” Paul reminded him, with a frown. “Why?”

“Oh, just wondered. It’s just that he hasn’t arrived yet. The assistant director’s taken over for the evening and is complaining rather vociferously; you what Franz is like,” Till said, with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, perhaps Ben’s late, as well,” Paul replied, with a shrug. “Although not for the same reason as Richard and I, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Till said, slowly, dryly, with a smirk. “How’s it going, anyway?”

“Okay,” Paul said, with a shrug, not certain as to what else to say. 

Till nodded, but didn’t speak further; instead, he crammed his balled fists into his pockets and looked about them, uncomfortably. Paul coughed slightly, before he turned away.

“I’d best get myself into make-up, or they’ll be moaning, saying I’m a diva or something,” he said, with a smirk. “There’s only room for one diva on set and Richard’s already claimed that spot, as usual.”

Till laughed at that, before he spoke again. 

“Okay, Paulchen. One question before you disappear,” Till said, which stopped Paul in his tracks.

Paul nodded silently and waited for Till to continue speaking.

“Have the make-up artists seen your fangs yet, or do you hide them? Do they retract when you’re not using them?” Till asked and he looked partially embarrassed for even asking.

“Retractable fangs, now?” Paul laughed. “Of all the questions I expected you to ask, it wasn’t that one, Till.” 

Till merely shrugged and smirked. 

“No, I can’t say they’re retractable. I just keep my mouth as tightly closed as possible, and don’t smile with my mouth open,” Paul said. “I don’t feel comfortable around other people. I know I can always lie and say that I’ve had dental work done to make me look like a vampire, but still. I’m not comfortable. At least you guys know what we are.”

“Huh,” Till said, with a nod. “Makes sense, I suppose. Thanks, Paul.” 

Paul laughed at that, surprised at actually being thanked for answering a simple question.

“Any other questions you want answered?” he asked, only half joking. “I’m sure either Richard or myself will only be too happy to answer them.” 

Till, at least, grinned at that, and his expression was a little more relaxed and receptive than it once had been where their change was concerned. Paul was merely glad for the fact that Till was starting to take an interest now. He hoped that that could be taken as a good sign.

“No, nothing yet, but I’m sure there’ll be something,” Till assured, him, with a smile still lingering on his lips. 

“Well, whenever you have them, we’ll answer them, like I said,” Paul said, with a shrug. “I think it’s nice you’re actually taking an interest now.” 

“Yeah, well, we’re are all kind of stuck with it. Might as well make the most of it,” Till admitted, quietly.

“Thank you,” Paul said, with his first proper smile in a while when it came to Till. 

Till merely shrugged, before he nodded towards the trailer.

“You’d best get to make-up, you little diva,” he said. and he laughed again. 

“Yeah, best do. Catch you later on,” Paul grinned, before he wandered away, with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

****

Paul was still in make-up when he heard the first screams coming from outside.

“What the hell - ?” Paul asked, as he looked out of the window in the side of the trailer. 

He saw people rushing towards one side of the clearing, and he excused himself from the make-up artist. The scent of blood was heavy on the air as soon as he opened the door and stepped from within its sheltered confines; Richard was beside him almost immediately, eyes dilated, and nostrils flaring as he, too, caught the scent of blood.

“Easy, lover,” Paul warned him, despite the fact that the blood had had a profound effect on him, as well.

Richard reached out, grabbed Paul’s hand, and squeezed; his grip was tight to the point of actually hurting and Paul knew that if he’d been human, he would have had his hand broken by Richard. As it was, his hand felt some discomfort, yet it didn’t break.

“Easy, lover,” he said, quietly, again, as he lifted Richard's hand to press kisses against the other vampire’s knuckles. 

Richard turned away with an effort, just as Till joined them.

“What’s going on? Are you guys alright?” he asked, in alarm, when he saw the strained expressions of the vampires.

“There’s blood somewhere,” Richard said and his voice was as strained as his expression. “Blood, Till.”

“Jesus,” Till said. “You can smell that?”

“Yeah,” Richard forced out. “Fuck.” 

“You’re not gonna go on a rampage, are you?” Till asked, alarm mounting in his voice and expression. “I thought you said you’d fed, already.”

He gave Paul an almost accusatory glare, yet Paul merely gave him a bland stare. 

“We have, but blood still effects us,” Paul pointed out. “D’you think you could go and have a look? We should be fine as long as we keep our distance.“

“Jesus,” Till said, in alarm, before he turned sharply and walked away from them without a backward glance.

Till returned, a few minutes later, with an even more alarmed expression on his face. 

“Guess we know what happened to the director,’” he said. 

“What?” Paul asked, sharply, from where he sat in front of his trailer, Richard by his side.

The two vampires had taken themselves as far away from the smell of the blood as they could without actually leaving the set itself. Richard had his head in his hands, head bowed, and Paul’s arm nestled around his shoulders. 

“He’s dead. Been murdered, it looks like,” Till said. “It must have only happened within the last ten minutes or so. The blood’s still too fresh.” 

“How did he die?” Richard asked, as he tilted his face towards Till.

“He was knifed,” Till replied. “Repeatedly, too. His head’s nearly been sheared right off, actually.”

“Fuck,” Richard said, as he wiped one hand over his mouth as though trying to wipe away his hunger.

“You’ll be fine, lover,” Paul assured him, drawing a little closer to rub one hand against Richard's shoulder.

Richard turned into him and rested his face against Paul’s throat. Paul smiled up at Till, and at the sudden concerned look upon the vocalist’s face. 

“Are you gonna be alright? Neither of you look it,” Till pointed out.

“I think we’ll feel better away from the smell of the blood. Less temptation, that way,” Paul said, as the first brush of Richard’s fangs grazed against his throat. 

Paul tilted his head a little to the side so that Richard could have better access; he didn’t need to wait long before he felt the other vampire’s fangs sink in and Paul’s eyes closed, mouth curved into a smile at the feel of it. He felt the familiar rush of lust at such an intimate display of vampire-affection and blood-letting, and he heard Till shift nearby. 

“Perhaps, you should disappear for a while, until this is over,” Till suggested, but he didn't sound angry nor even bothered by what was happening in front of him. “Maybe get yourself a bite to eat to take off your hunger.” 

“Yeah,” Paul said, as he cracked his eyes open to smile at Till. 

He saw that Till was watching them with interest, a slightly amused smile upon his face. Till shook his head and partially turned away.

“Kinda cute, actually,” Till muttered, beneath his breath.

Paul knew that he wasn’t supposed to have heard that admission, yet he still responded anyway.

“Thanks, Till,” he said, just as quietly.

“Fuck,” Till said, as he turned back again. “I forgot you had bloody bat hearing.” 

Paul laughed, even as Richard’s fangs slid out of his neck again, leaving only kisses in his wake. Paul turned his head and gave Richard an open-mouthed kiss, tongue arching out to lick the blood from Richard's fangs. They still were kissing when Till slipped away with a chuckle, leaving them alone for the time being.

****

The vampires slipped away soon afterwards, to find a place to feed, as Till had suggested. They were gone longer than expected, to make love in a private spot, as Richard still was aroused after feeding from Paul. By the time they returned to the set, the police had arrived; Richard and Paul were asked to give their statements, through a translator, in connection with the murder of Ben Irvine. After their statements had been taken, the only thing left for the band to do was to return to their hotel and wait for whatever was to come next.

****


	11. Chapter 11

Two days later, the band and their associated cast and crew were forced to end their video-shoot early and to return to Berlin. Their permit to work at the set had been summarily revoked by the Transylvanian authorities in light of the murder perpetrated within the depths of the Hoia-Baciu Forest, despite the fact that the killer still had, as yet, to be found. The murder weapon had not been located either, yet the fingerprints found on the body did not match any of those belonging to any of the cast, or crew; whilst they were all exonorated from the crime, the discovery did not deter the authorities from making their decision to expel Rammstein from the country. 

The band had reconvened in Till’s apartment once they had all arrived in Berlin again, and Flake had some surprising news.

“I’ve been thinking about what you were telling me on the flight back, about the forest, Richard,” Flake said, seriously, as he hefted a thin sheaf of printed pages out of his bag.

Richard had told the keyboardist of the conversation he’d overheard a mere few nights prior, regarding the Hoia-Baciu Forest’s status as the world’s most haunted forest. 

“Hmm-hmm,” Richard prompted, with interest, as he watched the keyboardist closely.

“Seems like it wasn’t complete horse-shit; what you heard was true,” Flake said, with a nod of confirmation.

“If you can believe in that sort of thing,” Schneider murmured, with a half-disgusted snort. “Most of the stuff you see on the internet is just hyperbole and horse-shit.”

“Regardless, I still thought it worth a look,” Flake said, with growing impatience. 

Paul lifted one hand to forestall further comment from Schneider, before he said - “Just hear him out, Chris; I happen to think he's on to something.” 

Schneider closed his mouth, yet not without supreme effort on his part. Paul nodded, once he was certain that Schneider would remain silent, before he gestured for Flake to continue.

“Thanks, Paul. Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Flake said, as he hefted his sheaf of papers again. “I’ve been looking at information about this forest we were filming in. As Richard said, it’s been dubbed the most haunted forest in the world. Some of the myths attributed to it include missing people, poltergeist activity, disembodied female voices, unexplained rashes and migraines, alien visitations and portals to other dimensions, all of which I don't need to remind you that we all experienced to some degree. Well, except for the aliens, of course.” 

“I dunno, though; what about those weirdo figures we saw captured on film the other night?” Richard pointed out. “When Till was riding a-horseback? They looked like aliens. Ben went mad because he thought some of the crew were lurking at the edges of the clearing.”

There was a brief silence after the guitarist’s mention of their murdered director, before Flake cleared his throat and continued talking. 

“Okay, then. Aliens. So we have seen some, I assume,” Flake allowed, with a brief smile. “As well as experiencing pretty much everything else on the list I mentioned.”

“And? What’s your point? I’ve got a distinct and unshakable feeling that you’ve got one,” Till prompted, a little impatiently, yet his impatience was tempered with amusement. 

Flake huffed and gave Till a narrow-eyed stare, yet the vocalist didn’t flinch; instead, Till’s smirk grew wider and he continued staring at Flake until the other man turned away with a discomfited expression upon his face. 

“Okay, so my point is - going back to what I mentioned about portals to other dimensions, what if Ben’s murderer slipped through from another place? Somewhere that is distinctly different to the dimenion we inhabit?” he asked, with a vague lift of his shoulders that was almost embarrassed. 

“Like I said, what horse-shit,” Schneider mumbled.

“Shush, Chris,” Flake said, with growing irritation. “I think there might be something in my theory. I mean, no one knows who the murderer was. The prints didn’t match up with anybody’s on set. There’s no evidence that anyone else was in the forest at the time, other than us. What if there is something in what I'm saying? I mean, we all saw weird lights amongst the trees on various occasions, actually. What if those lights denoted portals opening?”

“Well, you were going on and on and on about bloody murderers the entire time we were on set. You never know, you might have accidentally called one into being, through sheer force of will or belief or something,” Richard said, with a sudden laugh that trailed away when no one joined in.

“Well, why not?” Flake asked with a shrug. “You’re a vampire and you laugh at something like that?” 

Richard turned embarrassed eyes away from him, then. 

“I don't know; there might be something in all of this, you know. I mean, we all saw and experienced some pretty weird shit in that bloody forest. I mean, you’ve gotta admit, that it wasn’t a normal place,” Olli said, as he glanced towards Flake. 

“I think Olli and Flake are right,” Till surprisingly agreed. “To a certain extent, of course.”

“Why a certain extent?” Flake asked, intrigued despite himself.

“We’ve got no proof either way that that’s what happened, but look at what we’ve been through already. We’ve got two vampires for guitarists, our bassist has been possessed by a magical revenant and we’ve seen some weird crap in a forest and that’s only in the space of six months,” Till pointed out. “Have you never read a book called Mythago Wood?” 

“What the fuck’s a book got to do with anything?” Schneider asked, in confusion. 

“Have you read it?” Till asked, refusing to be distracted from his original question. 

“No, I’ve never read it. I’ve never even heard of it,” Schneider replied, a little grumpily.

Till waited until the others had replied to his question, yet it was only Paul, unsurprisingly, who’d actually read it; Paul was the band's biggest bookworm. 

“I’d forgotten about that book,” Paul admitted, with a smile. “It’s quite good, actually. Very poetic and beautiful in how it’s written. The first in a series, although I’ve never read the others.” 

“But what’s it got to do with us?” Schneider asked. 

“The plot of Mythago Woods has everything to do with us; it deals with a forest in England, where myths and legends are brought into living, breathing life, if one believed in them hard enough. Heroes, mostly, though, like Robin Hood, or Guinevere, from Arthurian legends, plus some other pretty monstrous things,” Till explained, with the occasional nod of corroboration from Paul. “Why couldn’t it have happened in Transylvania, like for real? Like Richard said, Flake was seemingly obsessed with murderers whilst we were there and then someone really was murdered, with no evidence to prove who actually did it. I doubt that that murderer will ever be found, if Flake’s dimensional portal theory’s correct.” 

“Well, I believe it. If that’s the case, then, I think we all had a lucky escape, vampires included,” Olli said, as he turned a smile upon Richard and Paul. "I wonder what those other dimensions look like?"

"Why? Do you wanna go back and have a look?" Till asked, with a sudden dry snort. "If you do, then I'll quite happily take you there." 

"Not really; we might never come back again," Olli said, with a sudden laugh that lit up his face. "We don't know what's on the other side." 

"Well, I never said I was gonna go through with you, Olli; I was just gonna take you, there," Till said, with a laugh of his own.

"There's probably a whole dimension filled with murderers," Flake offered gloomily.

"And one filled with dragons and unicorns, I suppose," Schneider said, a little sarcastically.

"Why not? There might be one filled to the brim with vampires," Paul offered, with a hopeful grin at Richard.

"That one would be the greatest dimension in existence, naturally," Richard corroborated, with a laughing nod towards Paul, who laughed in turn.

"I don't know why you're having such a hard time believing in all of this, Chris, after all you've seen," Flake said, next, as he turned a long-suffering gaze upon Schneider.

"I'm not denying that that forest was fucking scary, and that there was something wrong with the place," Schneider admitted, with a weary sigh. "I'm just having a hard time believing in all of this dimensional portal shit." 

"Why? We can't be the only plane of existence out there, surely," Olli pointed o ut. 

"Just like we can't be the only life in existence in the entre universe," Paul agreed. "There's gotta be aliens out there. It'd be kinda arrogant of us to assume we were the only sentient beings ever." 

"Yeah, and humans aren't the only beings on Earth, either," Richard corroborated, dryly. "There's vampires, for a start." 

"And we're highly awesome," Paul said, as he turned a bright, fanged grin onto Richard who nodded out his laughing agreement to his lover. 

"In your own minds," Till muttered from behind his hand.

Richard and Paul studiously turned a deaf ear to Till's comment, which, in turn, made the vocalist laugh. 

“This is starting to give me a headache, you know,” Schneider said, as he massaged fingers against his temples. “D’you think we could change the subject, for a while?”

“Oh, ye of little faith; you were the one attacked by giant spiders, don't forget,” Richard muttered, and his comment raised a few smiles around the room. 

“I'd rather not remember that if you don't mind, Richard. So, swiftly moving on, then. This is me changing the subject. Any word as to when and where we’re gonna finish this video?” Schneider asked, darkly.

“Nah, not yet. We might find out by the end of the week,” Paul replied, with a shrug. “I doubt we’ll have much time to rest on our collective arses; too much money’s been spent on this crappy video, as it is, already. Management will want to recoup what they can, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Till replied when no one else did, before he, too, fell silent. 

After a brief pause, Till smiled, roused himself from thoughtful reverie and spoke.

“Anyone want a drink?” he asked, before he turned suddenly embarrassed eyes upon Richard when the vampire coughed pointedly. “I don’t have anything for you guys. Sorry.”

“That's okay,” Paul said, with a quiet laugh. “We’ll just live vicariously through you guys. Again. It’s not like you really can keep vats of blood warming in your cupboard, just for Reesh and myself, or anything. It‘d be a bit hard to explain that sort of shit away to the landlord, if he happened to see them.”

Paul grinned amidst sudden loud laughter from the rest of the band.

****


	12. Chapter 12

**__**

THREE WEEKS LATER

Paul settled down upon the bed with a groan; he was glad to be back in the apartment that he shared with Richard with the familiar accoutrements of home surrounding them once more. He inhaled, stretched luxuriously, toes stretching within the confines of his socks. He made a contented purring noise when he felt the bed dipping beneath Richard’s weight, and the soft press of the other vampire's lips against the curved exposed line of his throat. 

“Am I glad that’s over with,” Paul said, as he reached up and threaded fingers through the soft strands of his lover’s hair. 

“Hmmm,” Richard said, as he nibbled at the skin near Paul's ear, grazing the skin there with his fangs without actually penetrating.

Rammstein had finished off their abandoned video project in the Black Forest, and had only just returned to Berlin again; the second half of shooting was boring in comparison with the Transylvanian set. Nothing otherworldly had happened at all. Paul was glad that they now had a few months off before they were required to do anything band related, again. 

“Did you bring them?” Paul asked, as Richard's fangs grazed at his jugular, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through Paul’s body.

“Hmm-hmmm,” Richard said, as he spread his fingers against Paul's abdomen, pushing them up beneath the covering of Paul’s shirt. 

“Can you get them?” Paul asked, in sudden pleasure at the very thought of their latest purchase.

Further to their talk about whipping and accompanying experimentation with Richard's belt, they'd decided to branch out into other areas. Richard had brought back a pair of handcuffs from their visit to Munchen, a gift that had made Paul laugh at the time, yet had been aching to use since. 

Richard snuffled against Paul’s throat, and eased away with a disappointed groan. Paul grinned, but didn’t point out the fact that Richard would have full, unadulterated access to his entire body soon. Richard retrieved the handcuffs from his case, before he turned and nodded to Paul.

“Get undressed, lover,” he said, with a wicked grin. 

Paul made short work of stripping himself free from travel-stained clothes, despite the fact that his fingers were shaking with excitement. Richard was no better; his fingers shook as much as he removed his own clothing, huffing and cursing beneath his breath as buttons caught in their holes and zippers locked and snagged. Eventually the vampires were undressed, and Paul positioned himself on the bed.

“How’d you want me?” he asked, with an arch lift of his eyebrow at Richard.

“Hard and eager and screaming my name, preferably,” Richard murmured, as he lifted Paul’s arms high above his head, wrists pressed against the headboard.

“All in good time,” Paul promised.

He knew that that was an easy promise to keep, especially if the excitement preceding the event was anything to go by. He felt the cool clamp and snap of the cuffs around his wrists, and he jerked up from the bed, an aroused cry leaking past his lips at the sensations.

“Wow, you really do like this,” Richard observed, in surprise.

Paul merely smiled at him, lust robbing him of speech; he waited whilst Richard pushed his legs up so that Paul’s knees rested somewhere in the region of his shoulders. 

“Jesus,” Richard said, already half hard at the sight of his lover stripped bare and trapped upon the bed. 

He fished the lube from his still packed suitcase and squirted some of the shining fluid into one palm; he slipped slick fingers between Paul’s legs and prepared him, hands shaking as his gaze raked constantly over Paul's body, arms stretched over his head, and erection laying fully flat against his abdomen. Richard laid on top of Paul, and guided himself in with a loud groan of relief, before he began to move; Paul’s body arched as far as it could away from the bed, handcuffs snagging and rattling with every move he made, as his arms strained against them, muscles moving and bulging with every twist and turn and sharp, eager jerk. Richard couldn’t help but bite on Paul’s shoulder, fangs sinking deeply as he continued thrusting hard and fast into his trapped lover, and Paul’s cries turned loud and desperate, arms straining at the cuffs. A loud snap and the cuffs came free and Paul’s hands immediately clamped down upon Richard’s butt, pushing down hard in encouragement.

Richard groaned, but the noises were muffled against the curve of Paul's shoulder, and he came, pleasure bursting and coiling through him as he rode out his climax. He fleet Paul coming between them, release hot and sticky against sweaty skin. Richard eased away once he’d finished, smiling past the blood that decorated his lips.

“That was fucking fantastic,” he said.

“I would say that you could try the cuffs next time, but I bloody broke ‘em,” Paul said, as he held the snapped remains of the cuffs up to the light and Richard’s examination.

Richard laughed at that, before he spoke again.

“You are one strong boy, Paulchen,” he said, as he fingered the rough and dangling remnants of one half of the cuffs. “We can always get another pair, anyway.”

“You’ll probably break those ones, too,” Paul said, ruefully.

“Maybe, but what does it matter? I’ve gotta try it once. I don’t think much could stand against the strength of a vampire, actually,” Richard pointed out.

“Hmm,” Paul agreed. “Can you let me out now, d'you think? This is not the kind of jewllery I really wanna be stuck in, forever.” 

Richard’s laughter was contagious, and Paul still was laughing by the time the ruined cuffs fell from chafed wrists. Richard kissed the chafing with eager lips, tongue lapping out against reddened skin. Paul smiled at the attention, knowing that the irritation would be gone by the following evening. He settled back agaisnt the pillows and slid gentle arms around Richard's body, when the other vampire crowded in for a contented kiss and snuggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty then, it's come time to say that this chapter marks the end of the current story, although this is still not the end of my 'Vampires in Berlin' series. There's still more to write, post and explore in this little vamp!verse, because I enjoy writing about the fanged wonders!
> 
> As always, I really cannot tell you how much all the kudos and comments left on my work means to me; I am very apprieciative of it all and it encourages me to keep going with this! :o)


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